


Invisible

by CharlieNozaki



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Drama, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, M/M, Magic, Nakamaship, Post-Time Skip, Potions Accident, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieNozaki/pseuds/CharlieNozaki
Summary: It’s an ordinary scuffle-filled day, until Zoro and Sanji stumble across a good old-fashioned love potion. One thing leads to another, and their previous argument soon becomes….well....irrelevant to say the least. Now, it seems, they finally have hope of living in peace and harmony with each other. But at what cost…?(Canonverse - right after Fishman Island. [Slow burn] ZoSan. Includes artwork).





	1. Lost

* * *

It started with fucking women.

Not…. _fucking_ women, because as far as Zoro knew, the dumb love-cook was as pathetically virgin as they came, despite his attempts to make everyone believe otherwise.

And not fucking _women,_ because the only one the idiot was fucking over with his own gross, flirty behavior was himself.

The crew had been back together for a few weeks, and even after the cook had nearly _died_ on Fishman Island thanks to his damn perverted nose spouting blood all over the entire kingdom, it was clear he was hardly getting any better around women.

What the fuck had he even been _doing_ for the past two years? Clearly nothing productive.

Zoro didn’t care about the answer though, only that it was an actual problem, because, out of all of them, the blond was already proving to be a goddamn liability.

It was _just_ fucking women anyway, minding their own fucking business, wandering the fucking boardwalk when Sunny pulled into the busy port town, which just so happened to have a stupid oceanfront shopping district where girls liked to hang out on clear display for incoming ships.

It wasn’t even a _nice_ shopping district. The buildings of the town were pretty shitty and run down. But it was still like a perfect little dollhouse display for the drooling cook, who’d leaned over the rail, noodling about and waving as if they’d all been waiting for him when, in reality, no one paid him any mind.

He was a tiny man aboard a big-ass ship, an insignificant speck in all the bustle, and even if their crew was pretty damn famous now, the town’s close proximity to Sabaody clearly made the locals rather immune and uncaring to the likes of pirates coming and going.

The bastard cook wasn’t the only one excited though. Nami and Robin looked pleased as hell for the shopping, even though they’d _just_ picked Pappug’s store dry not even a few days ago.

Usopp and Chopper were itching to get their feet on dry land too, Franky eager to restock on cola, and Brook ready to be on an island that wasn’t located miles and miles _below_ ground level. Though, technically, he’d claimed he should _already_ be six feet under. Yohoho.

That left Luffy, and that left the fact that, in a twist of fate that was just stupid enough to be typical of the crew’s usual adventures, directly across the canal from the female-heavy hoards of shoppers was a restaurant district advertising all kinds of steakhouses and eateries that were perfect for a starving Luffy that hadn’t eaten for an hour.

So, as Sunny coasted past that area, affording the crew a good glimpse into the wide tributaries of water that jutted into the town (like a bootleg Water 7, Zoro thought), both Luffy and Sanji were hanging over the rail, drooling over their respective delicacies and being all-around useless.

So useless, in fact, that a particularly delicious-looking faded illustration of meat on a hanging restaurant sign, nearly falling off its hinges no less, had Luffy slinking over the railing farther, reaching out as if he could grab the food right off the sign.

It was no matter that the sign was still a good fifty feet from where the ship was currently sailing into the harbor.

He’d reached out too far, sandaled feet slipping on the wood of the deck (wood Franky and Usopp had just polished after they’d ascended from Fishman Island), and tumbled headfirst off the side of the ship like the clumsy idiot he was.

And no one noticed, the others focused on their own excitement.

Save for Zoro, who’d slumped himself in his usual spot against the mast, indifferent to the buzz around him.

But there was absolutely no reason why a certain dumb blond shouldn’t have noticed. He was standing right next to Luffy after all....or rather, hovering there in a cloud of love.

But the cook was too damn preoccupied with the walking tit show he seemed to think was being put on just for him to do anything about it.

And that was the last straw in how damn awful the cook had been since waking the whole world up at the ungodly hour of five in the morning, clomping around in the kitchen, and causing enough racket to reach the crow’s nest where Zoro had passed out on the floor a few hours before in the middle of his watch shift.

When the blond didn’t immediately react, not even after the telltale splash of water some ten meters below, audible to Zoro even amidst the commotion and chatter aboard the ship, that was it.

He couldn’t take the fucking cook’s incompetence. He couldn’t take his stupid flailing and prancing that left him oblivious to everything _important_ that was happening around him. He just couldn’t take his fucking _stupidity._

So, without one word, the swordsman got to his feet, heavy boots thudding purposefully across the deck, a deep-set scowl on his face as he glared at the back of the cook’s head with disdain.

No one thought anything of it as he nonchalantly sidestepped around Usopp, Chopper, and Franky, who rushed past him towards the bow of the ship, eager to get a better view of the large array of vessels already docked in the harbor ahead.

No one said anything as he passed Nami and Robin, discussing the day’s budget with a notebook between them.

Not even Brook made a comment when he nearly danced into the swordsman, violin on his shoulder as the skeleton played an adventurous tune to set the mood for the dingy pirate town.

Zoro had a completely free opening to stalk right up behind Sanji, grab the back of his empty, girl-obsessed head, and tip him right over the edge of the railing with nothing but a surprised yelp, the swordsman hopping up on the rail and jumping overboard after him to rescue Luffy.

Zoro hit the water, surprisingly warm after sitting somewhat stagnant around the docks in the sunlight all morning, and didn’t bother to surface, just dove down, the weight of his swords allowing him to sink faster in search of his captain.

He pushed through the water, deeper than he’d expected, hulls of other ships hovering above him like dark clouds, heavy anchors holding them in place, before he found the anchor he was looking for.

Luffy had already touched down on the floor, displacing a floating puff of sand and a few crabs which quickly scuttled away from the mysterious rubber projectile.

The idiot had both hands clamped over his nose and mouth in a clear effort to hold his breath, but it was obvious he wasn’t lasting much longer, the seawater no doubt sucking his energy faster than he could handle.

But Zoro was there, just as Luffy let go with a stream of bubbles, grabbing hold of his captain’s open shirt and tugging him up against him. His own hand he shoved over Luffy’s face to stop him gulping in any water, and the swordsman quickly kicked hard off the seafloor, rocketing the both of them towards the surface.

When he broke it a few seconds later, he hoisted Luffy up on his shoulder, slapped at his cheek until his captain took a weak breath and coughed a little.

Satisfied that Luffy would survive, he then looked around to find a place where he could drag him out of the water.

That is, until he heard the annoying, high-pitched sound of the cook’s voice not far away.

One irritated twist of his head was all it took to locate the blond, flopping about in the water and howling for “Nami-swan” as he struggled to swim after Sunny, the ship having continued its swift sail towards the open docks, not waiting for its men overboard.

“Nami-swan, wait for meeee~” the fool was busy calling out, blond hair plastered to his head like a bunch of limp pasta, arms waving about in the water as if Nami could miraculously turn the ship around between two rows of docked ships.

Zoro noticed Nami standing at the stern, leaning over the railing with a hand cupped around her mouth as Sunny kept right on sailing away.

“Sorry, Sanji-kun!” she called back. “Can’t stop! You guys meet us back at the docks by three, okay? Here’s your shopping money! Don’t get it wet!”

She then tossed a small pouch at him, the thing soaring through the air in a graceful arc before the cook dove through the water and managed to catch it before it submerged.

“You can give five beris each to Luffy and Zoro! Bye~” Nami said, giving a thumbs-up before turning on her heel and heading back across the deck as the ship left earshot and floated through the large wooden archway that marked the entrance to the main docking area.

Sanji gave a grand lovestruck wave….until he seemed to remember something, and suddenly, Zoro found himself locking eyes with a terrifying vengeful look that brewed and twisted over the cook’s face as soon as he located the swordsman.

But nope. Zoro still had more important things to attend to, namely the limp rag still hanging off his arm, who was currently moaning quietly about being hungry.

Zoro stared back as blankly as he could manage, the cook not even worth his trouble now.

And the second Sanji started darting towards him in the water, Zoro ignored him and dragged Luffy over to a dilapidated little jetty, at which knocked an empty pair of small fishing boats that had seen better days.

He made it there before Sanji, flopped his captain up onto the creaky wood of the dock, and pushed his way up as well, just as a shriek of his name practically split his eardrums.

“Zoro!”

Again, he ignored him, more preoccupied with making sure Luffy was still alive before getting to his feet and surveying where he’d ended up.

 _“Zoro,_ you bastard!”

The jetty raggedly worked its way to a shallow strip of sand, on which was built a low wall, the raised walkways and the battered buildings of the town above it.

It looked like they’d arrived close to some empty warehouses, nothing but scattered rope and buckets strewn around, so he took the moment to tilt his head and smack at his raised ear to get some water out casually as the sounds of clumsy splashing got closer.

He turned his blind eye towards the water so he could have the excuse that he didn’t see Sanji, even though he was pretty sure he knew what the sight would be---the blond flailing his way up to the jetty with one arm, holding that precious little purse Nami had thrown him high out of the water and looking an utter mess.

“Hey! Dammit, Zoro, don’t _ignore_ me!”

Feet squelched uncomfortably in his boots when he took a few experimental steps towards land, and he decided to pull arms out of the sleeves of his robe to free them from the drenched fabric. A vigorous shake of his head got some of the excess water out of his hair as the sound of rattling coins hit the dock behind him.

What should he check out first? He didn’t need to find a swordsmith today, having just polished and done a bit of maintenance work a few days ago. Though now he’d probably need to re-wrap his swords’ tsuka after jumping into the water with them.

Ugh. Maybe a drink would be good.

“You _asshole!”_

That was all the warning Zoro got before a very angry designer shoe came flying directly towards his head.

He had just enough time to roll his eyes before swiftly drawing Wado and clashing the blade against the waterlogged sole of that shoe.

Zoro said nothing, just glared hard at the cook before slicing out and down to push the blond back, nearly sending him right back into the water had Sanji not, unfortunately, recovered and caught himself easily.

“What, nothing to _say?!”_ Sanji screeched, carefully stepping around Luffy, who still lay flopped out on the planks like a fish, to lunge at Zoro again. “Why the hell did you knock me in?!”

This finally got him, the swordsman colliding with his attack again and using the close proximity to growl in the blond’s face for good measure.

“Why do you _think?!”_ he shouted, genuinely pissed, and for good reason. “Luffy fell in, and you didn’t do a damn thing!”

“I didn’t see him fall, you dick!” Sanji shrieked right back, twisting an ankle and almost managing to wrench Wado from Zoro’s grasp, a smug smirk coming to his face. “That doesn’t mean you shove me in and ruin one of my good suits!”

“It does if you were too busy pissing yourself over _women_ to pay attention to your _captain!”_ Zoro justified, rotating his arm with Sanji’s attempted move in order to keep a tight hold on his katana’s hilt. “And who the fuck cares if your stupid suit gets ruined!”

 _“I_ do!” Sanji replied, missing Zoro’s point entirely. “It’s worth more than your whole existence!”

“Oh, so a hundred twenty million? More than you too, last I heard!”

“That’s not even---!”

Just then, wet sandals slapping on the wood, and a hand casually pushed through Sanji’s outstretched leg like a door, Luffy striding between the two, coin purse open in his hand as he rifled fingers through the wad of bills also inside.

“Hey, Sanji, I’m gonna go find a meat place, kay? See ya~”

And Luffy waved cheerfully, still dripping water in places, but otherwise looking back to his normal self, wandering off down the dock towards the street.

Zoro and Sanji blinked after him for a long moment, neither reacting, until Sanji finally flailed arms and hands and made a series of unintelligible noises in his haste to stop the straw-hatted fool.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa---Luffy! Stop!”

He managed to snatch the purse from Luffy’s hand before he could get too far, Zoro forced to slide Wado back into its sheath, grumbling about an unfinished fight.

“Not so fast! Nami-san said you get five beris! _Five!”_

The blond held up five fingers in Luffy’s face like he was talking to a dumb kid. Then he rummaged inside the purse and doled out five coins into his captain’s palm.

“I need the rest for---ah, ah! Don’t give me that face!”

He pointed a finger at Luffy’s pout.

“But Sanjiiii---!”

“Stop it,” Sanji insisted, giving Luffy a little kick to the shin. “I need the rest for food shopping, so unless you never wanna eat meat _again,_ then I suggest---”

“Okay! I can deal with five!” Luffy instantly agreed, a broad grin returning to his face. “But you gotta buy a lot! Zoro, go with him! Make sure he buys enough to feed a whole island!”

“What! Luffy!” Zoro yelped. “I don’t wanna---!”

“Later!”

It was too late. The hyperactive teen was already bouncing off again, stretching an arm out to grab the top of a nearby building, taking a few shingles off the roof before he found a more secure grip and rocketed himself up to recklessly parkour away.

Again, Zoro and Sanji could do nothing but stare after him for a few beats, both with identical scowls on their faces.

But it didn’t last long this time before Sanji shook his head, combed fingers through his wet hair, and huffed out a breath before striding off down the dock himself, taking the money with him.

That left a wet mossball stranded alone and penniless, something Zoro came to remember a few seconds later as he watched the blond tap shoes along the ground as he walked, bitching under his breath about fuck knew what.

“Hey!” he finally called out, hurrying to catch up with Sanji. “Where’s _my_ five beris, you greedy shit!”

Nevermind that five beris couldn’t buy him fuck all. It was the principle of the thing.

Sanji gave a loud groan and _the_ most dramatic eyeroll he could muster as soon as he heard those heavy bootsteps coming after him, stealthy as a mammoth.

“You don’t _get_ ‘em!” Sanji growled, turning a corner to head down an alley that seemed to lead towards a busier street a bit more inland. “You knocked me in the damn water, so your punishment is you stay broke!”

“I _told_ you---you fucking _ignored_ Luffy!” Zoro hissed back, coming up beside the cook and stretching across to try and wrestle the purse from his stupid precious hands.

Sanji held it out of reach though, so Zoro scowled and shouldered him hard into the side of a building in the narrow alley, eliciting a string of curses from the blond.

“This isn’t a fucking _joke,_ stupid cook!” the swordsman continued, pushing back against Sanji when he tried to do the same to him as they neared the mouth of the alley. “This is the _New World_ now! And you may have had your fun little flounce with the mermaids or whatever. But this is serious! You leave yourself vulnerable---you don’t use your damn brain---and that’s it! This isn’t some _game!”_

“Oh, spare me the speeches, Zoro. You’re one to talk about _brains,”_ Sanji muttered, abandoning the shoving fest in favor of scanning the busier street they’d come upon for some market stalls. “You think I don’t know all that? You can’t act so high and mighty like you’re the only one who did any work these past two years.”

He trailed off then, turning abruptly to the right and striding off, away from the dirty-looking pubs in the opposite direction. Maybe if he headed towards the square, he’d have hope for some actual _fresh_ goods to peruse.

Sanji fully expected to lose Zoro easily, either to the distraction _of_ said pubs, or simply to the mysterious riptide that always seemed to carry him away through the crowds. He’d seen already, after all, that two years of training had done nothing to cure the marimo of his directional challenges. And frankly, he had no interest in toting him around for the day, even if Luffy had ordered it.

So it came as a rather unpleasant surprise that he had a green shadow stalking after him without so much as a moment’s hesitation.

Of course, he discovered this by the fucking irritating baritone in his ear.

“Gimme my money, cook,” Zoro grumbled, and Sanji _really_ didn’t know why the idiot was so keen on five beris.

“And what are you gonna buy with five beris, huh? A cup of air? Honestly, give it up and leave me alone,” he shot back, speeding up a little and starting to feel entirely self-conscious about how fucking _wet_ he was when more people started to appear in the streets the closer he got to what looked like a busy square up ahead.

To make matters worse, his cigarettes were probably unusable now too.

The last thing Sanji had wanted was to end up doing his shopping with a marimo tagging along again. It had been bad enough on Sabaody with Zoro lumbering next to him the whole time, complaining about wanting to go _fishing_ of all things. Since when did _Zoro_ like fishing anyway?

He’d had a moment, admittedly, where he wondered if the marimo would be different after two years. More tolerable and mature. Sanji certainly knew he himself was.

But no. Zoro had been the same exact Zoro, albeit beefier and missing half his vision, and while maybe there was something a tiny bit comforting about that---

No, it wasn’t comforting. Just familiar. And the cook supposed that’s what had made him feel so relieved upon seeing him bob up with that damn ship he’d sliced in half, beneath his exasperation.

Two years of wondering if Zoro was even still alive did that to him, it seemed....

None of that mattered though because the dumb marimo was still trailing him, nothing but a walking slab of meat anyway, so there was no use getting himself worked into a frenzy over the fool.

A hand through his damp hair, giving it a bit of a shake, and he straightened his sopping tie as they neared the first stall upon coming up on the market.

The town was still rather dismal in terms of its color palette, nothing but dark neutrals, and compared to the places they’d recently been, the people were rather plainly dressed, almost like they’d stepped back some years into the past. It was rather odd, considering the place was clearly a busy port and seemed to have a good seafood business going for it.

But Sanji supposed maybe it would only make Zoro fit in better with that ridiculous drab bathrobe he insisted on wearing now. He didn’t know where the swordsman had been sent for the past two years, but clearly it hadn’t done a thing for his fashion sense. The blond never thought he’d _prefer_ the mosshead’s shitty T-shirts of yesteryear.

The cook pushed Zoro’s incapacity for dressing himself far from his mind, instead focusing on the stands of fish they’d come across, perusing the hanging specimens, and the ones laid out over ice in front.

Zoro watched as the weirdo leaned in _so_ fucking close to inspect them. All he fucking had to do was give ‘em a damn poke and pick one. He didn’t have to freaking _make out_ with the tuna to know if it was gonna taste good.

A snort to himself as the swordsman actually pictured that in his mind, something that had Sanji grumbling, “The hell’re you laughing at?” over his shoulder absently.

He didn’t wait for an answer though before getting into a conversation with the stall keeper about the fish’s origins.

Zoro yawned loudly, tuning him out and sticking a finger in his ear for a bit of impromptu cleaning as he looked around the square himself.

Typical townspeople milling about, typical stuff for sale. It sure was an ugly place. It was all stuff they’d seen before though. After the wonders of Fishman Island and even Sabaody, this town seemed downright boring, and Zoro couldn’t see any of the crew wanting to stick around long. He sure hoped the Log Pose wouldn’t take long to set.

He popped his pinky out of his ear again, examined it briefly, then flicked some earwax in Sanji’s direction before letting out a long sigh, hoping to annoy the cook.

He certainly didn’t _need_ to stick around, and he _wouldn’t_ have had Sanji just given him the money Nami had _said_ was for him.

He wasn’t a _complete_ idiot. He knew five beris wasn’t gonna get him anything. But if he dropped the issue now, it would be the same as giving up, and he’d have nothing to complain to Nami about later.

Because he knew that even a five beri change in the budget would certainly cause a ripple effect through her careful planning, and that was something that definitely hadn’t changed.

If anything, she’d gotten far worse about it, and he knew the love-cook wasn’t above her wrath.

So he meandered along, a few paces behind Sanji as he bought all kinds of meats, fruits, and vegetables that began to accumulate in an ever-growing bundle of shopping bags under his arm.

Until, that is, after buying a particularly large slab of beef, he finally deemed it time to make use of the pack mule clomping along behind him.

“Carry this,” Sanji ordered, turning around abruptly and passing the load of purchases into the previously ignored Zoro’s arms, much to his chagrin.

“Oi!” he screeched, stumbling back a few steps in his surprise before trying to shove everything back into Sanji’s grasp. “This is _your_ shit! Carry it yourself!”

“It’s not shit! That is your sustenance for the next leg of the journey, so you’d better fucking worship it because without it, you’d be _dead!”_ Sanji shot back, hardly seeming put out by Zoro’s protests.

In fact, he hardly even seemed to be paying attention as his gaze wandered down the street where a line of peculiar-looking shops lay in wait. Maybe he’d be able to find some good spices….

“Be a good ass and carry that stuff, and maybe I’ll reward you with five beris! How ‘bout that!” Sanji added, feigning a look of wide-eyed shock at the swordsman before shoving hands in his pockets and strolling off down the cobblestones.

“Fuck off!” Zoro squawked back at him, but, now saddled with fucking cargo, there was nothing he could do but obediently teeter after the cook as he headed towards a small shop with a weathered sign that was illustrated with a small glass bottle full of some substance.

Great. Sanji was probably dragging him into some poison shop to try and get rid of him once and for all.

Well, that wasn’t fucking going to happen, and Zoro nearly decided to gouge out his good eye when the cook gave a cutesy little wave of fingers to a pair of women across the street who hadn’t even looked their way. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Into the shop he went, opening the paint-chipped door, sounding a rather obnoxious clanging bell as he strode into the interior.

Zoro had to catch the door with his foot when the cook nearly slammed it in his face, but he managed to shoulder his way in with the shopping bags.

It was a tight fucking fit though, considering how small the place was, and how fragile everything seemed to look.

Inside, it was dark, and it smelled weird. Like incense or….something weird. Old people? Zoro didn’t know. And he hated how everything was painted an ancient-looking dark green, like the place was encrusted in mold and hadn’t seen sunlight on the dank side street for fucking years.

The shelves of the tiny space were filled with bottles. Big ones, small ones, some clear, some not, all of them looking completely inedible. And the paper labeling them wasn’t much help, each looking more leathery and yellowed than the next.

“The hell are we doing in here, cook?” Zoro hissed, cringing a bit as Sanji approached a shelf, uncapped a particularly disgusting bottle and gave it a fearless sniff.

“Shut up. Thought they might have spices,” he replied, replacing the bottle and pulling out another. “You could’ve waited outside.”

Zoro just growled, glaring with irritation at his surroundings and hoisting up the shopping bags a bit.

He glanced behind him at the dirty windows that looked out onto the street, debating dropping the bags and indeed heading out alone.

And he probably would’ve done just that had Sanji not suddenly made one of his gross crooning noises and did a little noodly wiggle as he eagerly reached for one bottle in particular.

“Ooooh, what’s this~?” he chirped, to seemingly no one but himself. “A _love_ potion~?”

Sure enough, in his hands he cradled a dusty heart-shaped bottle filled with a strange pink liquid that sure _looked_ the part. But who the hell knew what kind of shit it really held.

“Oh, come on, cook. Even you can’t be dumb enough to---”

 _“And here, fair Nami-san~ I present to you the elixir of everlasting love~”_ Sanji swooned, offering the bottle out towards the empty space in front of him where no doubt stood a hallucination of the navigator. _“Let us both drink and reap the benefits of a perfect, eternal marri----”_

“Put it the fuck away, idiot!” Zoro shrieked, nearly knocking it from Sanji’s hand before he thought otherwise. What if the thing exploded and it turned on _them_ of all things?

Holy fuck.

The swordsman shuddered, memories assaulting him, almost more traumatizing than any of his brushes with death.

Waking up to Sanji’s lips an inch from his face after barely knowing him a month....

Getting hit by Foxy’s beam and enduring thirty tortuous seconds of the cook floating ever closer to his gaping mouth….

Once again. Holy fuck.

“Like I have to listen to you, marimo,” Sanji bitched in return, snatching the bottle out of his reach and holding it protectively to his chest. “You wouldn’t know romance if it jumped you in a fucking alleyway and---”

The cook stopped short, face scrunching up in disgust.

“Shit. No. Not even going to imagine that---”

“Put it fucking back, you stupid _Question!”_ Zoro insisted. “I told you before, none of us have fucking time for your stupid perverted _shit!_ And like hell Nami would even _fall_ for such a dumb thing _anywa---!”_

“Oh, that is _it,_ asshole!” the blond spit right back, quickly striding down the short, cramped aisle towards him. “You have no business even _pretending_ like you know what Nami-san would---!”

“A-Ah---gentlemen? Is everything alright?”

The feeble voice of a short old man piped up, the shopkeeper probably, wringing gnarled hands nervously where he’d appeared at the end of the aisle.

But neither Sanji nor Zoro paid him any mind as the swordsman was forced to drop the food bags on the ground so he could properly get up in Sanji’s face with his own ferocious snarl in return.

“Just fucking get lost already, cook!” Zoro hissed. “Gimme my money, take yer damn groceries, and go check your fried ero-brain into a freaking crazy hou---”

“You wanna go right here?!” Sanji shouted back, interrupting him yet again. Nevermind that there was hardly room enough for them both to _stand_ in the musty aisle, let alone _fight._ “Wanna finish what we started before? ‘Cause I still owe you an ass-kicking after you threw me in the shitty _ocean!”_

“Fine, let’s _do it!”_ Zoro gritted out, and, his earlier caution about the bottle in Sanji’s hand _completely_ gone from his mind, he started things off by lashing out with an elbow, roughly connecting with Sanji’s chest and sending him stumbling back towards the poor old man, realization of the impending disaster to follow reaching _his_ face before either Zoro or Sanji’s.

Despite practically inviting Zoro to attack him, Zoro managed to catch Sanji off-guard, and, in his haste to regain his balance, he reached out to grab the nearest shelf…..with the hand that held the heart-shaped bottle.

Down it went, slipping from his grasp, and the shelf that he pulled on tilted, threatening to drop and spill every other bottle along with it.

The cook let go of the shelf, realizing his mistake a second too late, sending the entire floor-to-ceiling case rocking precariously before a single forgotten bottle tipped and rolled off the very top, not even nestled with the others for sale.

Sanji fell straight on his ass.

Those two bottles fell.

A shattering sound.

Zoro’s screech.

“You fucking idio---!”

But it cut off.

Because in between him and Zoro, a mini-eruption occurred. A plume of white smoke suddenly bursting there from amongst shattered glass, quickly growing and overtaking the entire aisle, forcing Sanji to cover his eyes with his arm and shield his face, not knowing what the hell it was.

He stayed there on the ground, hearing absolute silence, but becoming acutely aware of his own heartbeat, how it began to thunder in his chest at the thought of what had just occurred.

A few shuddery breaths left him, and a peek from behind his arm showed that strange smoke had dissipated, leaving him sitting there unharmed, broken glass surrounding him.

Blue eyes traveled, almost fearfully, along the floor, over scratched floorboards and those tiny crystalline shards, past the discarded shopping bags…..to the unscathed heart-shaped bottle that had rolled up against them, completely undamaged and intact, even after the fall.

Sanji inhaled sharply, sitting up straighter, realizing that it was indeed a different bottle that was broken around him, and his relief was so palpable that, despite their argument of mere seconds before, his first reaction was to look up at Zoro to share what would no doubt be equal relief from the marimo.

They would not be falling in love with each other against their will. His entire sexuality, which meant so much to him, would not be undermined or tossed aside by one stupid slip-up.

No. Nothing would change because---

Zoro was gone.

He wasn’t there. There was simply….empty space where he’d been standing.

“What the---?”

The cook whipped around, looking behind him, but only found the old man, his hands fisted in wiry white hair as he flitted off, muttering about finding a broom.

“Marimo?” he tried, only to be met with that same utter silence. “Oi! Zoro! What the fuck!”

Had he run off? Left Sanji alone to deal with this shit? It was all too possible that he’d pulled a disappearing act, given the fact that Sanji had closed his eyes.

Fuck that bastard! And he’d left the shopping bags too! 

But in reality, unbeknownst to the cook, Zoro had done no such thing.

Zoro still stood there in the same place he had been before as the smoke cleared, staring down at the broken glass on the floor, brow knit in confusion at the empty spot where he _knew_ Sanji had fallen. He’d seen him go down, heard his ass hit the fucking floorboards. It was a wonder he hadn’t crashed right through.

But there was no sign of him. None. And when he grumbled out, “Hey, _Cook,”_ he received no response.

Just silence and blank space.

How could he have crawled away so damn fast? Was he suddenly (unsurprisingly) part cockroach?

And yet, Sanji, entirely human, hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground just feet from where Zoro also stood, despite his desire to chase after the irresponsible mossy shithead.

Because as he’d gone to do just that, his hand had pressed on a larger piece of glass from the mysterious broken bottle, a piece with the label still intact.

He lifted it tentatively, breath catching in his throat.

 _‘Invisible potion for your enemies,’_ it read, in scrawling, faded penmanship. _‘No known cure.’_

Sanji’s eyes widened, his head shooting up to where Zoro had stood mere moments ago, feeling his heart give another flutter in his chest for entirely different reasons now, just as the old man came hobbling back with a broom that was taller than him, and a dustpan.

“Alright, you troublemakers,” he scolded in a raspy voice, as if he wasn’t only talking to Sanji alone. “Yer helpin’ me clean this mess, and yer payin’ for what you broke. Don’t wanna hear any fuss about it. Not from neither o’ you.”

But he wasn’t insane, because both of said troublemakers were still right there in the aisle, perfectly visible to him, staring back with matching expressions of shock.

A few beats, minds racing loudly. Until...

 _“Shit,”_ both of them swore at the same time.

Though neither heard the other over that empty silence.


	2. Dinner and a Show

Zoro was a step behind Sanji in terms of comprehending the situation at hand. As far as he knew, he was stuck, alone, with a crazy old man who was now about to make him clean up and _pay_ for a very big mess that he hadn’t even _made._ Not to mention a mess he couldn’t afford…

So he’d elbowed Sanji into the shelf. The cook was the one who’d fallen and knocked shit over! And the cook was the one who’d up and disappeared on him after that weird-ass smoke act.

Thank fuck the creepy love potion hadn’t broken. Just the thought of Sanji making goo-goo eyes at him like he did to anything female was enough to make him feel sick. Or at least...how he’d _imagine_ being sick felt. He still had a twenty-one-year good health streak going for him, near-death experiences aside, and he wasn’t looking to change that.

But none of that was important because he was still standing there foolishly with a pile of broken glass in front of him and no idiot-cook in sight. Not the fault of his blind eye either. The asshole had clearly split.

“Oi. Look,” he finally started to say in response to the old guy, far from the best at getting himself out of deep shit, but he had to try. “I wasn’t the one who…broke…...the……..what the fuck?”

He trailed off slowly as his vision suddenly focused on a large chunk of the broken bottle that _lifted from the ground_ and began _floating._

Zoro blinked, shook his head vigorously, rose a hand and rubbed at his eyes, fucking--- _everything_ he could do short of slapping himself in the face to make sure he was really seeing what he was seeing.

But no, he was definitely seeing it, and the piece was floating its way over to the old man, who didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about it.

In fact, he pulled a pair of ancient-looking spectacles off his baggy shirt collar and slipped them on the end of his nose, leaning in to examine the label on the piece, rather calmly, considering an inanimate object was _in the air_ for no reason.

“Hmm...oh my, an invisible potion indeed,” he mused, bringing knobby fingers to his chin for a perplexed scratch, even though Zoro hadn’t said a word.

He then looked up, eyes focusing on the empty space above the shard.

“Well, I don’t know. I only sell them!” the geezer said, as if talking to someone. A pause and then he gestured to Zoro. “He’s standin’ right here! With a rather peculiar look on his face.”

Indeed, Zoro’s mouth was agape, brows scrunched as he stared at the guy like he was insane, especially when he kept right on blabbering to no one.

“But come on, there’s glass to clean and---young man, are you listenin’ t’me?”

He said it right before the floating bottle rotated in the air, surged towards Zoro, paused, rotated back towards the old man just before the geezer made an exasperated sound and gestured more insistently at Zoro.

“Right there, where he’s always been!” he said. “I swear, of all the troublesome, meddlesome…”

It seemed the man had given up on talking to himself because he shuffled forward and set to sweeping up broken glass without further word despite Zoro not having moved an inch.

The swordsman was too busy watching that creepy hunk of bottle flitting about in front of him like it was lost or something, and if glass could be sentient, he could’ve sworn it looked frustrated as hell until it finally settled for hovering in open space a few feet from him.

It was at least close enough to afford Zoro the chance to read the ancient label on said piece. 

_‘Invisible potion for your enemies. No known cure.’_

Wait….what? Had he read that right?

The swordsman reached out to grab the piece of glass, feeling a bit of a resistant tug when he yanked it from the air.

As soon as he did, the old man nearly jumped a foot.

“Would you quit that screechin’?!” he yelped, certainly not in response to _Zoro,_ because, once again, the mosshead hadn’t said a word. “What were you expectin’ holdin’ it out to him like that? Gonna give me a heart attack!”

Zoro decided to ignore him for a moment and stared at the label hard, rereading it a few times. Was this….it wasn’t a code? Some secret message?

No, it couldn’t be. It appeared to be a normal label, albeit a fucking old one that looked like it had been scrawled by a wizard and recovered from the depths of some undersea cave that---

Suddenly, it hit him, much later than it should have, but, unbeknownst to the swordsman, his ability to decipher messages was never one of his strong points.

“Oi, hold on a damn second!” Zoro squawked. “You tellin’ me the cook’s invisible?!”

The old man gave a withering sigh, having managed to sweep most of the broken glass into a pile in the middle of the aisle.

“Yer both standin’ here clear as day to me, so unless yer playin’ some game, ignorin’ and talkin’ over each other like that, then I can’t tell y’nothin’. ‘Less you two’ve been hittin’ the pubs,” he grumbled, stooping down with some creaking difficulty to start brushing the glass into the dustpan.

Sanji, meanwhile, was busy pacing the aisle, a hand at his forehead and a million things running through his mind, all of them circling around the swordsman and whether or not Luffy would be furious with him for letting this happen.

But no, why would Luffy be mad? If this old geezer could still see the mosshead, then that must mean the problem only persisted between the two of them.

And really, it wasn’t so much of a problem at all, was it.

Time for one last experiment before he grabbed his groceries and split with his newfound peace and quiet.

The cook reached in his jacket pocket for the coin purse, pulling it out and opening it to take out a one-beri coin, which he held out in front of him, tentatively stepping forward towards where the bottle label still hovered.

He held it out at arm’s length, a little hesitantly, like he was offering it to a giant fucking spider and not an invisible ball of moss. But then again, it had freaking creeped him out when he felt that bottle shard tugged from his hand by an unseen force.

Nothing happened though. He waited….and waited….and the longer he did so, the more he began to panic because what if the bottle shard moving was some fluke and Zoro really had poofed out of existen---

“He’s saying you’re supposed to give him _five_ beris,” the old man muttered absently, still sweeping, and, a beat later, Sanji blinked, then dropped his head back to let out a loud groan towards the ceiling.

“That stubborn bastard,” the cook growled, and shook the coin for good measure. “Not happening, shit swordsman! You pushed me first! You got us into this! Tough luck!”

So the marimo couldn’t hear him. Whatever. He just hoped his irritation was palpable in the air at least.

He tossed the coin back into the purse and tucked it back into his pocket, which he hoped concealed it from the idiot, before he stepped around the glass to start gathering up the shopping bags for himself. If he couldn’t see or hear Zoro, he didn’t want to risk losing any of his precious purchases by chasing after his invisible pack mule all day, who would no doubt wander without a visible guiding force.

He’d carry everything himself, thank you very much, and he did just that, pausing for just a brief moment while he was crouched down, eyes falling once again on the heart-shaped bottle which had rolled over to the bags.

But he could only stare a few seconds before, suddenly, the bottle lifted off the ground a few inches and went darting off down the aisle, much to the old man’s frustration.

“Oh, now why would you kick that?! You tryin’ to break everything I have?!” he rasped, throwing up arms and abandoning his sweeping in favor of chasing after the bottle.

The cook found himself glaring at open space, which was annoying as hell with no target.

And it was annoying enough that he eventually got to his feet with the bags and strode right on through the aisle to the door.

“Hey, where do y’think yer---oh, for the love of---both o’ ya?” the old man was busy griping after him before he finally let out an exasperated, “Oh, forget it---good riddance!” just before Sanji opened the door and headed back out onto the street.

He made sure to slam it behind him, hoping it caught Zoro in the face somehow.

It nearly did, but Zoro was ready for it, watching that bundle of shopping bags float their way out of the store. He managed to catch the door, speeding up as he tried to keep the bags in sight, which was much fucking harder than he thought considering there was no body to watch for in the crowds of passersby outside.

“Hey, Cook! Wait the fuck up!” he called, out of habit, before quickly remembering he was probably inaudible to the blond and letting out a string of curses because of it.

Dammit, that was almost more annoying than dealing with the guy in person. He did not like being fucking _ignored_ by someone as stupid as the love-cook.

Except Sanji literally couldn’t hear him, so Zoro had no choice but to stomp after him, hoping that the vibrations from his feet could somehow reach the blond, maybe knock him over if he was lucky.

Back through the streets they weaved, Sanji having no idea the marimo was actually managing to keep pace with him, grumbling all the while.

It was nice, to be able to walk at his own speed now, slowing to look at whatever he wanted, wave and (attempt to) flirt without snarky commentary over his shoulder. This was how a shopping excursion should go, and he was glad he could at least _finish_ his on a good note.

By the time Sanji was back at the ship, he’d nearly forgotten about what had gone down at the strange little shop. He found Sunny docked between two much larger ships (rather impressive considering how massive Sunny was), and he climbed the white staircase to the deck, amid the sounds of hammering, Franky and Usopp’s voices coming down from the upper deck.

“Oi, Franky! Usopp! I’m back!” he called, making his way towards the galley with his shopping bags, just before scurried footsteps, Usopp popping up over the railing a few seconds later.

“Oh, hey, Sanji! Just doin’ some repairs up here with Franky,” the sniper called down, then smiled and waved to someone behind him. “Hey, Zoro! Let us know if you need us!”

“Wha--- _Zoro?!”_ Sanji screeched, whipping around quickly, but, unsurprisingly, seeing no one.

And Usopp was heading back out of sight like nothing was wrong.

That was when, out of thin air, it seemed, that piece of the potion bottle materialized and came flying right towards him like a fucking shuriken, enough that he gave an indignant squawk and ducked out of the way.

It sailed right past him and ended up embedding itself in the wall near the galley door.

“You asshole!” he called to the empty space, and received no response, naturally.

A frustrated growl. No use arguing with thin air.

So he stormed towards the galley door, stopped to yank the glass out of the wall so Zoro couldn’t continue to use it as a weapon, and shoved his way through, carrying a full load.

The door nearly slammed shut behind him, but it didn’t make a sound, and Sanji realized, with a roll of eyes, that someone _else_ must have entered after him, especially when the door shut normally instead.

He ignored it and quickly set the bags down on the bar counter, shoving the bottle piece in his jacket pocket and wondering how the fuck Zoro had followed him all the way here if he was invisible to him.

He could see the bottle piece...did that mean Zoro could see the groceries? Fuck. And he couldn’t exactly _ditch_ them because he needed to unpack them, get them in the refrigerator.

Best do it quick, then not touch _anything_ for a good long while, so he could lose the guy entirely.

First, the meats, setting them out on the counter and grouping them by type of meat and cut, making sure they were packed together neatly before he took them into the freezer room.

He’d been able to buy a damn lot for cheap. Nami-san would be pleased. And so would Luffy. But Nami’s opinion mattered more, obviously, and---

Suddenly, a clattering behind him, and he turned around to see a cupboard mysteriously open, objects shifting around on their own for a moment until a whisk lifted up and began levitating its way across the room to him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” the cook muttered, and stopped his arranging to give that whisk his full, irritated attention.

Until, that is, the whisk picked up speed, and all of a sudden, the thing was soaring deliberately in a wide arc right towards his head.

Sanji instinctively leaned back against the counter, bracing himself with hands and raising a leg to knock the thing away.

But the whisk never stopped or slowed down. It merely continued flying….right…. _through_ ….his leg, finally stopping lower to the ground and hovering there, almost confused.

And in fact, Zoro _was_ fucking confused, because his experiment had certainly gone awry. Here he was, thinking he could locate where the cook was just by whacking random objects around to find his outline.

But nope. He’d only managed to swing through thin air, even though he _knew_ the cook was there because he’d _seen_ all those slabs of meat moving around with what had to be his hands. Unless he was moving that shit with his feet or his---

Okay. Fuck. New plan.

The swordsman lifted the whisk, waved it around all over the place, whirling about in circles like a fool, waiting to hit something fucking _solid,_ but with no such luck. Thank fuck no one was in the room to see him flailing about.

He waved and waved and waved like he was catching a damn fly and not a gangly asshole until, unexpectedly, something caught the whisk, pushing back against his grasp as if someone had stopped it in mid-air with their grasp and---

Was that the cook?

He gave an experimental push too, only to have it stay in place with an unseen pressure.

He might have caught himself a bastard.

With a triumphant grin on his face, he kept the hand holding the whisk where it was and reached out with his other hand, just beyond it, ready to grab hold of a wrist, feel the stiff fabric of Sanji’s stupid suit as he---

Zoro nearly stumbled and fell flat on his face when his hand sailed through thin air, much as the whisk had.

Nothing. He felt nothing. There was nothing _there,_ and yet he could _feel_ that pressure pushing back. The cook was _right fucking there,_ he had to be.

But when another swipe of his hand yielded _no fucking cook,_ Zoro made a frustrated sound and let go of the whisk, which fumbled as if Sanji wasn’t expecting the sudden absence of pressure on Zoro’s end before he caught it and it stabilized.

The cook stood there with the whisk, hand still outstretched from where he’d tried to grab hold of the swordsman’s dumb bathrobe now that he knew where he was, but he couldn’t _touch_ him, dammit, and it was like their only point of contact was through their hands, much to Sanji’s displeasure.

Because only his hands could touch whatever the ghost marimo had lifted, and _fuck that._ How the hell was he supposed to kick the guy’s ass now?

Maybe things were quieter, more peaceful, but he had a feeling the swordsman would still find ways to drive him fucking insane.

Sanji waited though, waited for Zoro to take hold of the whisk again, but nothing happened, save for the open cupboard slamming shut suddenly, making him jump like some poltergeist was in the room. Moments later, the galley door opened on its own, in keeping with this image, eventually meeting the same fate as the cupboard door.

Sanji huffed out a breath, mirroring the invisible swordsman’s frustration, and marched to the sink, turning it on and giving the whisk a good rinse before drying it and returning it to its home in the cupboard.

When the galley door swung open yet again, he didn’t look over, _really_ hoping the marimo wasn’t back with a bigger weapon, but it was Usopp who stepped in, looking a little spooked as he entered the room.

“What’s Zoro’s problem…?” Usopp asked, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “You guys fight or somethin’?”

“Nope,” the cook replied as he headed back to the counter to continue unpacking the groceries, determined to get himself back into a pleasant mood now that he wasn’t being haunted by a pesky ball of moss.

Usopp quirked a brow at him for a second, but then shrugged, in favor of continuing through the kitchen towards the men’s quarters.

Nothing was wrong, as far as Sanji was concerned.

Things were _great._

* * *

Things were fucking _not_ great, Zoro thought once he’d retreated up to the crow’s nest, grumpily grabbing his barbell, piling on all the weight he could and starting to swing it around like a maniac.

This was frustrating as fuck, mostly because the damn cook was probably smug as hell about all this. He was probably all glad Zoro couldn’t touch him, all happy to not have anyone bothering him.

Well, that wasn’t cool, because who the hell would put the idiot in his place? No one! Zoro was the only one policing the weirdo’s antics, and now there’d just be nonstop love tornados and high-pitched cooing!

Except….well, wait, he wouldn’t be able to see or hear any of that shit….okay. Fine.

But still! There was something about all this that irritated the swordsman to hell and back.

They’d just gotten off a two-year hiatus. No contact with their crewmates whatsoever. And now the love-cook was right back in the dark again. Like he’d fucking died or something and Zoro couldn’t even kick his ass about it.

Hell, Sanji would probably forget to feed him now that he was invisible! Fuck that!

He swung those weights like he was sending them right into the cook’s face, as he’d wanted to do with the whisk.

But the feeling was the same. No resistance. Just emptiness.

Ugh.

* * *

Thankfully, the Log didn’t take long to set at the island, so by the time the others met back at the ship, they were clear to go. And in fact, they needed to be after Luffy pulled an eat-and-run, barely tumbling his way back onto the deck in his fattened state, an angry restaurant owner not far behind.

Nami and Franky had peeled Sunny out of there, and they were on their way with time to spare before dinner.

Zoro hadn’t made another _non_ -appearance in the kitchen. Luffy was yet incapacitated by his self-induced food coma, and it made for an entirely, _blissfully_ uneventful afternoon as Sanji set about preparing for their evening meal.

It had certainly been the first time this had happened since they’d all gotten back together, and with several weeks of nonstop action, it was nice to really relax and appreciate this calm afforded to him.

He never skimped on quality normally, but he felt his creativity flowing that day as he flitted about the kitchen happily, putting together enough fried chicken to feed one hundred people, of course translating to eight normal crewmembers and a Luffy.

Apparently, his wonderful, infectious mood had caused lovely Robin-chan to take notice, because when she entered the kitchen close to dinner time to help set the table as she always did, she fixed him with a curious look and smiled.

“Is there something I should be happy about, Sanji~?” she asked, approaching the opposite side of the counter, a thin brow quirking when he practically pranced over to her with a silly laugh.

“I always want you to be happy, Robin-chan~” he replied, hands, holding a tray of cut vegetables, the only part of him that stayed absolutely stationary and level as the rest of him wiggled about in her presence.

“That hardly answers my question,” she noted, chuckling as she pulled some of the silverware and napkins towards her that he’d already brought out of the cabinets.

“I can’t help it,” he practically sang in response, shrugging out of his suit jacket to make himself more comfortable, not noticing the shard of glass that tumbled from the pocket as he leapt across to drape it over the back of his rarely-used chair at the table before twirling back to the stove. “It’s just so peaceful today, don’t you think~?”

“I suppose it is,” Robin mused, immediately noticing what he’d dropped, and with a small flurry of petals and a few extra hands, she’d passed the object to herself easily.

She turned the glass over, reading the label while Sanji hummed to himself and removed finished pieces of chicken from the pan. Her head tilted, fingers brushing over the archaic writing before she eventually lifted her head to the cook again.

“Sanji?” she called, and hearts practically burst forth from the cigarette he’d lit up as he replied a sugar-sweet, “Hmm~?” over his shoulder.

“May I ask why you had this strange object in your pocket?”

She held up the bottle shard, and, almost immediately, the smoke hearts retracted into the stick hanging from his mouth, his flushed face paling considerably.

“O-Oh! Just---something I found in town! It’s nothing!” he replied hastily, with a giddy laugh that illustrated just how much of a _something_ it was.

“Why keep it then?” Robin asked, setting her chin in her hand and watching him casually as he piled food onto serving trays with far more vigor.

“W-Well, I---it’s---look at the color! It’s nice, right?” he tried when he whisked around to set down the finished tray on the counter, frantically gesturing towards the bottle piece when he did.

“Ah, yes,” she mused. “The brown grime does have a magnificent soil-like gleam~”

He laughed as naturally as a hyena, then assumed his best butler pose, one hand behind his back.

“Mademoiselle, allow me to take that from you,” he said smoothly, bowing a little, the nervous flick of his eyes from her face down to the bottle shard giving away his fluster. “We can’t allow such grime to touch your beautiful ski---”

“Have you used this on Zoro?” Robin asked knowingly, blue eyes twinkling with mischief and intrigue. It was clear she was enjoying this.

And he didn’t even need to reply. The drop of his jaw, the way his face practically burst into flames? That was all the reply she needed.

“Oh my~” was her response, and she couldn’t help but lean forward conspiratorially. “Do elaborate~”

“I---” he stammered, struggling to speak for a moment before it all came flowing out at once, complete with frazzled gestures and expressions.

“It was an accident! The marimo and I were at this weird shop, with all these potions and things---I thought they’d have spices! A-And he was a complete oaf and shoved me into one of the shelves and this bottle fell and broke in between us, and next thing I know, he _poofed_ away and---”

He brought hands down desperately on top of hers.

 _“---Please_ don’t spoil this, Robin-chwan---it’s been so _nice!”_ he moaned pitifully, sinking and practically flopping himself over the counter, squeezing her hands.

She sighed, smirking slightly, and gently extracted hands from his before he forgot to let go and stayed clamped there like a barnacle for the rest of his life.

“I’m afraid that depends, Sanji,” she said, giving his fingers a comforting pat before retracting her hands entirely, clasping them in her lap. “Will this be harming the crew in any way?”

The cook moaned again, straightening some and staring glumly at the artful way the vegetables swirled around their tray, a vibrant array of colors that he’d taken such glee in mere minutes ago.

“I don’t think so….” he mumbled, somewhat sulkily. “I mean...everyone else can see him. _I_ just can’t see him. Or hear him. Or touch him. And I think I’m the same for him. As far as I can tell, he’s nothing but a floating whisk.”

“A floating whisk?” Robin repeated, raising a brow, but he just shook his head.

“Never mind,” he replied, then let out a heavy sigh, looking miserable enough that she chuckled.

She watched him for a minute, seeming to mull over everything he’d blurted out to her.

“Well, I suppose if no one has disappeared entirely….” she murmured, almost to herself. “Though I’m not so sure this won’t have long-term drawbacks for the two of you, Sanji…it’s really quite a shame.”

“With all due respect, I seriously doubt it, Robin-chan,” Sanji replied. “This will be good! He won’t get in my hair anymore, so….”

He trailed off with another nervous chuckle, starting to fidget a bit as if, deep down, he subconsciously believed the exact opposite, despite what he’d convinced himself.

Robin’s eyes drifted to his fingers, which had begun rearranging vegetables on the plate.

“Who would you like me to keep this a secret from~?” she asked, watching him pick up a carrot and set it back down in the same exact spot as before.

“I guess it doesn’t matter who knows,” Sanji mumbled, moving his little vegetable-lifting game to the celery. “It’s not like there’s any cure, like the bottle says. What’s done is done.”

“No _known_ cure,” Robin corrected, eventually getting to her feet and picking up the silverware anew to start placing it at the table. “I hope the two of you won’t mind if you have some experiments run on you during dinner~”

“Experiments? Like what…?” he asked warily, frowning as he followed her to the table with the vegetables.

“Nothing that will kill you~” she assured, comforting as ever.

* * *

It was only another half hour until it was officially dinnertime. Robin had only left the room once for a total of one minute to wash her hands in the girls’ restroom, and yet, by the time the crew had gathered for the meal, _everyone_ knew of Zoro and Sanji’s situation somehow.

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp had come bounding in first, and though they headed straight for the table like always, the fact that they all started flailing arms around and making spooky wailing noises when Sanji looked their way was enough to give away their knowledge.

“Saaaannnjiiiiii,” Luffy and Usopp moaned, sounding like stupid ghosts straight out of Thriller Bark. “Caannn youuu seee ussss? Woooooo….”

“Usopp, that face is scary!” Chopper yelped, though he was giggling up a storm as he climbed up onto his usual chair between Robin and the liar.

“He’s invisible, not a ghost!” Nami complained, rolling her eyes and taking her seat on Robin’s other side at the far end of the table.

“Ow! To Sanji-bro only!” Franky cut in as he lumbered into the room as well. “Just called Zoro-bro down from the work-out room anyway. Told him he should towel off ‘fore he comes in here. Don’t think there’s any way that _sweat’s_ gonna be invisible.”

“Yohohoho~” Brook chuckled, entering the kitchen behind him. “Sanji-san, have you made him an invisible meal as well~?”

The cook, looking disgruntled in his pink apron that he wore _because_ Zoro couldn’t see him and make fun of him, had merely stared at his crewmates from behind the counter with annoyance as they paraded in with their ridiculous commentary.

“All of you except Nami-san and Robin-chan, shut up!” he hissed, shaking his initial shock in favor of storming over to the table, where he hovered close to the girls’ seats in case he needed to beat away any wandering hands. “Look, I dunno how you found out, but the more you make a big deal of it, the harder it is to forget he _exists,_ got it? So let’s not---”

That was when the galley door opened, Zoro stepping in, shirtless and indeed sweaty, a towel draped around his neck, wet-looking hair that certainly wasn’t from a shower sticking up every which way.

The room went quiet for a moment, the entire crew turning to look at him at once, including the cook, who just kind of glared at the open doorway for no reason other than to show his irritation.

“What…?” Zoro mumbled.

Then, the kitchen erupted.

“Wait, Zoro, you’re not a zombie?!”

“How did you get from ‘invisible’ to ‘zombie’, Luffy? Of course he’s not!” Nami huffed, dropping her forehead into her hand.

“Hey, man, Cook-bro’s not gonna be happy you’ve got that thing on,” Franky scolded, eyeing his gross towel, to which Zoro merely shrugged before heading over to the table.

“He can’t see me anymore. Doesn’t matter,” he justified.

“Guess that’s true,” Franky replied, then ejected his smaller robotic hands from his large ones to start digging into his fried chicken.

“What did he say?!” Sanji screeched in alarm, having only seen Franky talk to fucking _nothing._ “What is he wearing?!”

He watched as, suddenly, Zoro’s chair pulled out on its own, and, knowing the marimo had to be there, he darted around the table to loom over what looked like an empty seat.

“The hell’re you trying to pull here, marimo?” he growled, and, once again, the room quieted as the crew’s eyes all looked to the two, Luffy’s rubber neck practically corkscrewing to look at Zoro beside him.

Naturally, Zoro didn’t react, just started chowing into his food without a care, not knowing a blond demon was currently right beside him, waiting for an answer.

Usopp was the first to give a little start, exclaiming, “Oh! Right! Guess we gotta translate now, huh. Uh, Zoro? Sanji says, a-and I quote---” A hasty attempt to push dark curls over one eye, fingers raising to imitate holding an imaginary cigarette before he managed to pull off a rather spot-on impression of the cook’s pissed-at-Zoro voice. _“‘The hell’re you trying to pull here, marimo?’”_

He broke character a split second later though to ask, “How was that?” And he grinned proudly as soon as Chopper and Luffy began cracking up uncontrollably and complimenting the act.

“I’ll kill you, shitty long-nose!” Sanji hissed, abandoning Zoro’s empty chair in favor of practically teleporting to Usopp’s, so fast that Chopper screamed, “Aaaah!!! Now Sanji’s invisible!”

Zoro meanwhile, oblivious to the action involving the cook, just rolled his eyes, practically mowing chicken off the bone like a jackhammer, eventually garbling with a mouthful of food, “M’notreplyin’. You’lljustimitateme.”

Thankfully, it seemed the excitement surrounding this newfound knowledge of Zoro and Sanji’s predicament was dying down, the more mature members of the crew already eating as well. After all, with Zoro and Sanji still perfectly visible to them, there was nothing much out of the ordinary, save for the fact that neither seemed to hear the other talking.

And of course, there was also the fact that Zoro was indeed receiving dinner service, despite having no shirt, but Sanji couldn’t have known that, the only evidence that the marimo was even there the pulled-out chair at his place and the fact that his friends would occasionally speak and react to the empty space.

Not to mention the fried chicken hovering over his plate, devouring _itself,_ so grotesquely that, on one occasion, Sanji walked up behind where Zoro presumably was and gave his chair a hard rattle, pleased when the chicken jolted and dropped to his plate.

Robin rose a hand to cover her mouth across the table and chuckled, Nami only glancing up briefly from her own meal on Robin’s other side to tell Sanji bluntly, “He says, ‘Fuck you.’”

“Well, _fuck him!"_ Sanji growled at Zoro’s chair, temporarily forgetting the presence of the ladies as he shook the swordsman’s chair again for good measure.

And he was about to storm off to attend to the other end of the table before Robin stopped him, setting down her fork and knife and tilting lips up at him.

“Sanji, Zoro,” she said, the swordsman still grumbling to himself from the sudden earthquake that had hit only _his_ chair. “Would you mind demonstrating what occurs when either of you try to make contact?”

“What, like try an’ stab him or something?” Zoro mumbled.

But Robin held up a hand, replying, “Please, one at a time,” and he realized the dumb love-cook must’ve replied too. He was glad he couldn’t hear it because it probably involved some love-poetry…

“Sanji, you said something earlier about a whisk?” she offered.

Zoro sat there, feeling entirely weird as he essentially watched Robin nod and respond to something he hadn’t even heard in the empty air beside him before her eyes were on him again. 

“Yes, Zoro, you may attempt to stab~ Sanji is standing just to your right,” she said, Nami snorting in reaction to what was surely a screech of protest from the blond.

Well, too fucking bad, because the swordsman already had a devilish glint in his eye and a fork in his hand, which he lifted and wasted no time punching forcefully into the space Robin indicated.

It earned him a rather shocked reaction, however, from both girls, and eventually attracted the others as well, all of them watching as the fork stabbed right through Sanji’s torso as if it didn’t exist at all, not harming him in the slightest.

“Whoa!!! That’s awesome!” Luffy screeched. “Zoro, try one of your swords next!”

“Sure thing,” Zoro replied, chuckling darkly and slipping Wado from its sheath a few inches.

He noticed everyone’s attention shift away from him though, all of them watching a spot somewhere above his right shoulder, and he frowned, somehow growing annoyed with the cook’s interruptions, even though he couldn’t see or hear them.

“Okay, try it with a knife,” Nami was saying, and shortly after, Zoro’s knife, still beside his plate, lifted from the table on its own and twirled around happily in the air, no doubt an extension of the idiot dartbrow’s arm.

It stilled though, after a stern look from Nami, hovering just beside Zoro’s face.

“Zoro, take the end of it. _Gently,”_ Nami directed, and though Zoro glared at her for bossing him around, he did as such, tentatively reaching up and pinching fingers on the sides of the blade, feeling that same pressure on the other end as he had with the whisk and the bottle shard, Sanji pushing back.

Robin and Nami exchanged an intrigued glance before Nami turned back and said, “Alright, Zoro, let go.” He did. “And Sanji-kun, stab him through the good eye. Just straight ahead, yeah.”

 _“What?!”_ Zoro shrieked, but not quickly enough before the knife came hurtling straight for his face…..only to pass right through with no damage whatsoever, to much ooh’ing and aah’ing from the other boys, as if it was some circus act.

Eventually, however, through Zoro’s string of irritated curses, the knife set itself back on the table as if nothing strange or murderous had occurred.

“Well, it appears to be quite the legitimate potion,” Robin concluded, though that should’ve been fucking obvious from the start, Zoro thought. “It’s as you say, Sanji. You are incapable of seeing, hearing, or touching each other, though if both of your hands make contact with an object, it seems you can manipulate it together. Why Zoro’s swords are invisible to you, however, I’m not sure---”

“Probably ‘cause they’re part of his body!” Luffy supplied, in all his random profundity, taking the distraction to steal food off Usopp’s plate without looking.

Robin seemed to briefly consider this before she chuckled and replied, “I suppose you’re right, captain~”

Brook, quite enjoying the spectacle of it all as well, leaned forward in his seat to turn an eyeless gaze to Chopper.

“Chopper-san, perhaps you could search for a cure?” he asked.

“I don’t _want_ a cure!” the swordsman screeched immediately, surprise coming over both Franky and Usopp’s faces as soon as he did, the two bursting into applause a second later.

“Ooh! Same timing!” they said, looking between Zoro and invisible-Sanji.

Zoro hunched shoulders and scowled. He was starting to wish whoever had spilled the beans about the potion (probably the stupid cook) never had.

It certainly wasn’t an original thought, because Sanji had the same one. And now Chopper had begun to _seriously_ mull over different medical possibilities, and dammit, no.

He wanted everyone to just drop it. Because it wasn’t a problem, so they shouldn’t concern themselves. Simple as that.

Dinner ended as it always did, with Sanji’s own meal still sitting on the counter untouched, the cook always preferring to eat after everyone else, to let him better monitor the crew’s antics. 

Chopper had promised to scour his books for potential fixes, Robin offering to help as the two made their way from the kitchen to the library.

Franky suggested he make the two of them outer body skin or armor that might make them visible to the other, at which point Brook insisted they’d be nothing but walking skeletons if that should be the case. He and Franky had left the room cackling and yohoho’ing about it.

Usopp’s idea involved dumping paint over them, or attaching large neon signs to their backs. Luffy had no ideas himself, but was _all_ for Usopp’s.

Zoro and Sanji had apparently replied an emphatic, _“No!”_ in unison again, much to the boys’ amusement, before Sanji kicked them out of the kitchen.

That left Nami, who’d recently been staying behind to help Sanji with the dishes. It had started as a way to catch up after the crew had reunited, but it seemed to have become a habit.

However, tonight was a disappointing one all-around for Sanji, because the navigator simply made for the door instead of the sink.

“Zoro, help Sanji-kun with the dishes,” she ordered on her way out. “I’m going to see if I can make some little thunderclouds to hover over you two~”

And when she too left the room, the pair of them might as well have been alone, judging by the absence of anyone visible.

Dinner had been a frustrating affair, but the reality of it all seemed to come crashing down with stark clarity without their crewmates around.

And dammit, Sanji couldn’t even tell Zoro he didn’t _need_ his help, thank you very much, and Zoro couldn’t grumble his unhappiness about the situation. At least Sanji couldn’t hear him call Nami a ‘bitch’ as soon as she left the room.

Zoro sat in his chair for a long moment, wondering if anything was going to happen.

Until, dishes began rising up off the table and stacking onto an invisible arm, the lot of them floating off to the sink.

A few seconds later, more cleared themselves from the table, and, as the clearing got closer and closer to his own plate, he hastily stood and pushed in his chair, backing up from the table so Sanji couldn’t try and knock him over again.

As soon as he did, however, he noticed the plate-clearing slow, hesitating slightly.

Zoro didn’t move though, just waited until finally the plates started moving again, those movements a little more jerky, almost irritated.

He could stay and help, but seriously. Sanji hadn’t done either of them any favors by blabbing about their situation, so Zoro decided he wouldn’t.

After all, what consequences would he face now? None from the blond, that was for sure.

So he stalked his way through the kitchen towards the men’s quarters to finally take a much-needed shower, his brow furrowed the whole time, the door swinging shut behind him.

As soon as it did, Sanji rolled his eyes, setting his second load of plates on the counter before heading back to the table for the last trip.

Honestly, whatever.

No Zoro? He could deal. His world wasn’t ending any time soon, and it sure as hell didn’t revolve around the shit swordsman.

Definitely not.

He blamed the tense way he scrubbed at the dishes that night on nothing more than fatigue…


	3. Contact

The weeks that followed were a ridiculous mix of island hopping, Marine battling, and lazing about on the open sea. Things were officially back to normal, how they _used_ to be, and it was a comfort to them all after two years of separation.

This was what they’d missed. _This_ was what they’d all fought so hard to get back to---to keep _this_ until they all reached their dreams.

Maybe some of them got a little too stir-crazy when they were out at sea for too long, but the joy of being together again seemed to appease even that. Luffy in particular hadn’t been heard complaining of boredom or lack of meat yet, and that was rather miraculous in and of itself.

In some ways, Zoro found himself relaxing.

He remembered all too well those final days before they were separated.

He’d trained harder than he ever had, despite being more gravely injured than ever, after Thriller Bark. He’d holed himself up in the crow’s nest for most of those days, throwing weights around, pushing himself to his limits because he had people to protect, and failure was absolutely not an option.

He’d distanced himself.

But now, he didn’t have to.

He was exponentially stronger, he knew. And so was his crew. He’d seen proof, and his silent pride for them was probably obvious.

After all, Zoro couldn’t exactly hide the smirks that crossed his face whenever Usopp took out a whole Navy ship on his own with one of his new Pop Green attacks, or Chopper knocked down fifty attackers at once with Kung Fu Point.

And that didn’t even cover how strong his captain had become…

They were ready for anything now, and they were damn well going to take the New World by storm.

But Zoro had not been ready for the cook to disappear, and he had _not_ been prepared for just how fucking annoying it would be.

Things were quieter, sure. No more listening to the blond’s stupid mellorine’ing or sorry attempts at flirting with the girls. No more insults thrown his way just for fucking _breathing._

But that also meant he couldn’t hear another voice of reason when Luffy got too out of hand….

He couldn’t hear him during battle, couldn’t hear his cursing or his ridiculous flowery attack names that were _really_ dumb but always an indicator of where he _was_ at least. There had been more than a few occasions, particularly in the first few days after leaving that town, that Zoro had felt a twinge of panic run through him when only seven of his crewmates were accounted for in battle, as far as he could see.

It usually went away quickly, when he located a horde of Marines shrieking in pain and falling over unconscious for seemingly no reason, smelled a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air. But it was still enough to trip him up, give him pause in a fight, break his rhythm.

Zoro blamed it on the lingering separation anxiety that even he knew he’d suffered from. He hadn’t expected to, but dammit, his bond with these people ran deep, and even their stoic, mighty swordsman could admit that.

Of course, his friends were strong as fuck. They could handle themselves, but with even one of them out of place, things felt off. And yes, he reluctantly accepted that applied to the shit cook as well.

Because he wasn’t liking what it was doing to him, slowly but surely. It was frustrating him, irritating him to the point where he wanted to pick a fight just to burn off steam, but there was _no one_ now.

He’d tried sparring with Franky, and Luffy even. But it just wasn’t---

Fuck. What? Was he going to get all melodramatic? Think it wasn’t the _same?_

Well.....yes. Yes, he was, because it _wasn’t._

Luffy got distracted too easily, and, despite his massive strength, he didn’t have the same fire when the fight wasn’t serious. Hell, half the time he would start cracking up if Zoro landed a hit, and that wasn’t as satisfying as hearing a string of colorful explanations of exactly how his opponent wanted to chop him up and serve him as a fucking culinary dish.

Same with Franky, who was a bit more unpredictable in his fighting style, but would reward Zoro, instead, with compliments about how cool and manly he’d become.

Zoro didn’t want to hear that. _That_ wasn’t what got him going. It wasn’t what kept him wanting to push harder, see just how many ways he could knock the cyborg around.

He wanted to hurl his own insults right along with his attacks, at someone who he wasn’t going to hurt with his words---or wouldn’t simply laugh and call him hilarious.

Zoro wanted Sanji to just fucking _hear_ him at least. He wanted some reaction instead of the dead space he found himself staring at more and more when he unconsciously began making a habit of stopping in the kitchen throughout the day, for longer and longer each time.

He would get a drink after a few thousand one-handed push-ups, then sit at the counter, sometimes unsure if the blond was even in the room if there was no cooking happening, no tools moving about on their own.

Sure, he could ask someone where Sanji was. But that would be embarrassing, right? Why would _he_ be so concerned with whatever the hell the cook was up to? He never had been in the past.

And besides, the cook was making it pretty damn clear he wanted nothing to do with Zoro either.

Their only interaction _really_ came at mealtimes, when Zoro would miraculously find a plate of food in front of him, easily see his friends interacting with the invisible man.

It annoyed him because Sanji wouldn’t even jolt his chair anymore, wouldn’t try and mess with him at _all,_ and it was like he’d decided Zoro was dead to him, only making him meals out of habit.

Most of the others seemed unaffected, and they’d dropped their initial ideas to help the situation rather quickly.

But Robin and Nami seemed to have taken notice of Zoro’s change in attitude, particularly when Zoro’s sulking and grumpiness began to reach new heights.

He’d go _looking_ for trouble, trying to bug the cook by getting up to help himself to food Sanji _hadn’t_ carefully portioned out, steal booze from the fridge whenever he pleased.

He could tell Nami was trying to stir up drama by mentioning things outright to the cook, telling him of Zoro’s terrible eating habits, or translating his muttered insults.

Robin too would often ask the two if there was anything they’d like relayed to the other. But every time, Zoro saw the look of subtle disappointment cross her face after what must have been Sanji’s stubborn denial. And the urge to kick the blond’s ass for that only grew stronger and---fuck. He couldn’t.

Thus, Zoro’s cycle of frustration continued. It boiled and festered until one day, after a particularly troublesome skirmish with Marines which left the crew flopped on the deck after Sunny’s Coup de Burst escape, exhausted and panting, but unharmed.

Save for the drops of blood falling to the deck close to Zoro, seemingly out of thin air, something the swordsman noticed a split second before Chopper let loose an ungodly screech.

“Aaaahh!!! Sanji, you’re bleeding!” the little reindeer yelped, flailing arms about helplessly for a moment before he actually decided to make himself useful and rush over to the blond’s side.

“It’s just a nick, Chopper,” the cook assured, pressing fingers to the rather deep laceration running down his forearm, something that didn’t reassure the doctor in the slightest. Maybe the barely-concealed wince didn’t help matters.

“Just a nick?! Do you know how close this is to your radial artery?! Sanji!” Chopper cried, hooves sliding gently but urgently around the wound. “Come on! We need to get you stitches!”

And then the cook found himself whisked to the infirmary whether he liked it or not.

As if he hadn’t gotten cut by knives a million times over in the kitchen. Though he wasn’t one to complain about medical treatment unlike _some_ idiot swordsmen, but….well, that wasn’t so much of an annoyance anymore, was it.

Things had been as quiet and peaceful as he had imagined, particularly if he brushed off his friends’ attempts to force communication between him and the invisible marimo.

Usopp and Luffy had found it hilarious the first few days, trying hard to make them visible to each other with various tricks, but they’d soon grown bored. Not to mention, Sanji had made it explicitly clear that they were to knock it off entirely after a mishap with some flour ended up setting them back on meal planning for that week. Nami had wholeheartedly agreed.

He didn’t need the marimo anyway. It wasn’t like he missed him. He was still around to help out in fights (basically his only useful skill), and even if the absence of ringing steel was incredibly noticeable, it wasn’t a _hindrance._

There was no one distracting him from his duties, trying to pick fights. He’d been able to log a lot more time in the kitchen, doing what he _wanted_ to be doing, creating new recipes or simply taking the extra free time to experiment.

It was nice, and even if booze began to go missing more frequently, well...the only reason he’d ever _really_ bought shitty rum was for that oaf anyway.

Sanji had actually been impressed. Zoro hadn’t tried to pull any invisible pranks. He was probably just as content to finally have some peace for himself to do---whatever the hell weird things a musclehead marimo did.

There was one less bout of raucous snoring in the men’s quarters, one less set of horrible table manners at dinner….

He just hated how he kept _thinking_ about it.

Zoro basically didn’t exist anymore, so why was it so constantly apparent? Why was his absence almost _more_ glaring than when he _had_ been around, taking up space and hogging air.

It was almost like the more he _actively_ tried to push the swordsman from his mind, the more he stubbornly insisted on _staying._

He’d thought it wouldn’t be hard, considering they’d just spent two _years_ apart….but for some reason, knowing he was gone from places he _should be_ made things feel very different.

Maybe he could hear the dull thud of weights hitting the ground occasionally, or hear his crewmates interacting with him.

But it began to feel mocking in a way, and this was what annoyed him while he sat there in the infirmary, a needle and surgical thread tugging uncomfortably through his skin in a place that was usually the swordsman’s second home.

He had no way of knowing that Zoro had appeared in the doorway, leaning there and watching Chopper sitting, seemingly by himself, in his human form, looking like he was _playing_ doctor rather than actually working on someone.

Zoro didn’t know why he’d come. The cook would be fine, but there was something about not being able to see it, as he always had, something about not being absolutely certain…

Sanji’s hair curtained the side of his face closest to Chopper, so he didn’t notice when the reindeer glanced up, eyes lighting up a bit when he saw Zoro in the door.

The doctor took a breath, just about to say something before Zoro’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, making a slashing gesture over his throat.

Chopper’s mouth snapped shut, and he looked almost disappointed for a second before he turned his gaze back down to his work.

“I’m almost done with the stitches,” he said out loud, fingers carefully maneuvering the needle a few more times, voice raised a little as he clearly said it for the benefit of both Sanji _and_ Zoro. “It shouldn’t restrict your movement, and you’re a fast healer, so I should be able to remove them in a few days. Let me know if the wound bothers you too much, and I can give you some painkillers.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sanji replied quietly, Chopper’s voice interrupting his thoughts. “Nothing I haven’t had before.”

“I know, but it’s been a while since----” the reindeer started to say before he stopped himself, mouth twisting a bit in regret of what he’d been about to mention.

“A while since what…?” Sanji asked cautiously, turning his head to try and catch Chopper’s eye, though the doctor seemed set on finishing his work without looking up.

Chopper sighed, then flicked eyes to Sanji only briefly.

“A while since you’ve had any injuries from a blade…” was all he mumbled as he tied off the stitches and took scissors to trim the excess thread.

The cook had a feeling Chopper would say something like that, but, nonetheless, it didn’t prepare him for the uncomfortable tightening in his chest, a feeling that was so close to guilt it startled him. What did he have to feel guilty about, after all? Nothing.

“Yeah, well….easier on you, isn’t it?” he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Chopper didn’t look convinced, and he didn’t sound it either when he replied, “As far as workload goes, sure, but….”

He paused, and Zoro could tell that he _almost_ looked back over at him, though he quickly caught himself and kept his gaze fixed on Sanji. Thank fuck. He didn’t know what the cook was saying back, but if he knew Zoro was there….Sanji would surely close himself off, as he always did. And there was something fucking frustrating as hell about that.

Surprisingly though, Chopper seemed to draw upon a newfound bit of confidence and conviction that he hadn’t possessed two years ago, and it surprised both Zoro and Sanji to see it on their younger friend’s face.

“Isn’t it weird for you, Sanji?” he asked seriously. “Because it’s weird for us! You and Zoro haven’t said a word to each other for weeks now! You haven’t even been fighting, or---or working together in battle like you used to, and---!”

He swallowed hard in the way Sanji knew was to combat sudden tears, but the cook didn’t say anything, just watched Chopper solemnly with his own heart nearing his throat. It didn’t matter what it was about. It was always hard to stomach seeing Chopper upset.

“We’re all supposed to be together again. That’s why we worked so hard these past two years,” the doctor was muttering in a dejected tone, his gaze downcast. “And the rest of us aren’t stupid. We can tell it’s affecting you both. Even if you don’t like to show it….you’re both more tense. And watching you two pass each other on deck without even---”

The doctor didn’t finish, just hissed out a breath and clenched his eyes shut.

Neither Zoro nor Sanji knew that their expressions in reaction to that statement mirrored each other’s, both averting eyes like scolded children.

Maybe they should’ve known this wasn’t just going to affect them, but dammit, it was easy to overlook that when they were both so damn preoccupied with their own ways of dealing.

“I don’t….know how I would even try and fix this medically,” Chopper continued after a moment. “And it’s frustrating, but---I-I’d try my best. I-If you said it was okay.”

Sanji watched Chopper for a long moment, and it was the fact that he cared for his friend _so_ much that he found himself murmuring, “Yeah, Chopper. It’s fine with me.”

And then, because he wanted to see the reindeer smile, he added, “I’ll even try and bug the marimo more. Just so he remembers I exist. How’s that?”

He got his reward, a broad, almost relieved grin that worked its way over Chopper’s face, and then, after hastily setting aside his medical tools, he dove in to hug Sanji tightly with a happy little laugh.

“That would be awesome, Sanji. And I promise I’ll do my best to find a cure!” he replied, squeezing ridiculously strong arms around him, enough to make the cook hiss out, _“Ow…”_

But he reached up to pat Chopper’s back with a growing smirk of his own.

A few seconds later, Chopper pulled away, turning his gaze automatically back to the doorway where Zoro was…..

But the doorway was empty.

Zoro had left.

* * *

Chopper was right. Zoro knew this, and he hadn’t wanted to see yet more disappointment on his face when Sanji no doubt screeched his disapproval. He wouldn’t be able to hear it himself, but knowing that the cook probably went on a tirade about how great everything was without him?

He didn’t want to fucking hear it.

Yes, the two of them had always been at odds.

No, he didn’t particularly _like_ the asshole.

But they were nakama, dammit. And he would’ve thought, especially after all they’d gone through for each other and the crew---after what the cook had been willing to do on Thriller Bark, as stupid as it was....

Sanji had kept his secret….

The shithead was an insane, irritating lunatic on a good day.

But he had kept his secret. Even from their captain.

He’d thought maybe...just _maybe,_ the damn cook cared a little if he disappeared from the crew or not.

Zoro’s frustration persisted, through furious reps up in the crow’s nest for the entire afternoon, straight up until dinner when he’d snarfed down food and pushed up from the table as soon as he was done, without even asking to be excused. It didn’t matter. Wasn’t like the cook was going to miss him.

And despite disappointed protests from the others, he’d stalked off to shower in just as sour a mood as ever.

He took a long one, tried to calm himself and do a little bit of meditating under the stream of water, like it was his own personal waterfall, but he could only manage it for a few minutes before he’d snap back out, still affected.

The cook, for all he was, had legitimately _never_ caused him this much fucking trouble. He hadn’t known _just_ how fucking hung-up on this he’d be, which was absolutely ridiculous.

But it was that very fact that told him he had to do something about this.

He couldn’t keep up this sulking when they were in the fucking _New World._

He’d even told Sanji the day all this had fucking started. This wasn’t a damn game. Things were serious, and even if they’d had an easy enough time so far, who knew what tomorrow would bring?

He needed to clear his mind.

And if intense work-outs, purposeful ignoring, and denial hadn’t worked for him, then perhaps confronting the cook would.

This was the decision he had in mind when he finally exited the shower, slapped bare feet up and down the hallway a few times before he found the men’s quarters, and threw on a fresh T-shirt (a freebie from Criminal) and pants.

Then it was back to the kitchen, this time, not to pass on through with indifference, but to stick around and figure out a way to communicate with the cook. There weren’t many ways, as far as he could figure out, but maybe he could develop some---tapping language or something. Fuck if he knew. But he had to try.

When he swung open the door to the galley, it was empty, and there was no sign of dishes floating about, washing themselves, none of that.

It was quiet, and he couldn’t see _any_ objects moving to indicate the cook was even there.

Zoro paused, a strange anger overcoming him, because he’d come in here with such damn conviction, and now there was no cook to confront? Like so many times in the past few weeks, he felt the dissatisfaction of an unfinished argument. Though, if he was honest, none had even been started in the first place.

Fuck.

He stood there for a long moment, trying to work out what to do.

But it was in that moment that he noticed a small sound. A quick scribbling sort of sound, and suddenly, from the table, a piece of paper ripped itself from the notebook he hadn’t seen there and darted over to the other door, the one leading to the deck.

It slapped to the wood and just kind of stayed there.

Zoro stared at it from across the room, delayed deduction skills working at top velocity before they noticed the handwriting on the paper.

Handwriting…..wait…..

Wait…..!

He scrambled his way over to that paper faster than he’d intended to, unconsciously desperate to grasp onto _anything_ the invisible cook threw at him.

Zoro reached out and wriggled the paper free with some effort from the force pressing it to the door.

Sanji sucked in a breath the second he felt that paper slide from beneath his hand, saw it float in the air beside him.

Zoro was _right there,_ and for some reason, there was a dumb sense of accomplishment that came with it, as if he was a fisherman who’d just wrangled himself a marimo fish.

_‘Marimo, we need to talk,’_ his note said, followed by an addendum he’d added at the last second when a certain fear overtook him. _‘You know how to write, don’t you….?’_

The cook watched that paper hover there for longer than it probably should have, and he had a moment where he wondered if the idiot could even _read_ too.

But then, the paper flew off towards the table, and he saw the chair he himself had been sitting on pull back, then scoot closer to the table again.

With a sigh, Sanji too crossed the room and sat beside the chair that was apparently occupied, watching as the paper flipped over, and the pencil he’d been using skittered across the table before lifting and starting to scrawl on the back of the page.

The cook moved a little closer as words began to take shape, not even staying within the lines of the paper, the crude chicken-scratch some of the worst he’d ever seen. Honestly, had the guy never been taught proper penmanship?

But soon, the pencil slammed down on the table and the paper shoved its way towards him.

_‘Yes, I know how to write, asshole,’_ it read, barely legible. _‘And **now** you wanna talk? Why?’_

The word ‘now’ was written in much larger letters, most likely for stupid emphasis.

Something about reading that set Sanji’s heart beating a little faster. He blamed it on the rise the swordsman was managing to get out of him, even on paper alone.

Quickly, he shoved that page back towards Zoro, took up the pencil, and grabbed the notebook to start on a fresh piece.

_‘Shut up. Chopper said everyone’s upset that we’re ignoring each other,’_ he wrote, quickly, but far more stylishly than _Zoro_ had. _‘He wants to try and find a cure. We need to make him think things went back to normal on their own so he doesn’t.’_

He didn’t know why he was advertising this as his plan. He immediately felt like erasing it as soon as he’d written it, but his stubbornness and his belief that Zoro would agree was what drove him to push the paper towards Zoro again.

The swordsman stared at the paper as Sanji’s message took shape, and when he passed it over, he felt his heart clench.

Was he fucking serious? He wanted to fucking _lie_ to everyone? Trick them?

There were so many things wrong with Sanji’s idea, the major one being Zoro _didn’t want to go along with it._

He couldn’t even play coy, just sit there and seethe over the fact that _this_ was what Sanji wanted to tell him after so long. That what he’d assumed was actually true.

Zoro didn’t care how it made him look. He wasn’t about to sit by and agree to shit that was stupid beyond reason.

He yanked Sanji’s paper over, ripped it from the notebook and crunched it in his hand to illustrate his disgust, then started his message on a new page.

_‘Fuck that, cook,’_ he scribbled, movements jerky and angry. _‘You wanna lie? You think Robin and Nami are dumb enough to fall for that shit? Why don’t you just let him look for a cure? That way I can finally kick your ass again like you deserve for getting us into this shit.’_

A growl, even though Sanji couldn’t hear him, his hand aching a bit from his furious writing. But he passed the notebook across the table, watching it to see Sanji’s reaction….until he felt his chair jolt suddenly.

Sanji pulled his foot back down after kicking Zoro’s seat, hard. Then he dove for the paper, crumpling up Zoro’s message and tossing the paper wad at the empty seat beside him, hoping it traveled right through the swordsman’s creepy face.

His chair jerked beneath him too from an invisible force, so he stood instead, hovering over the table as he wrote his reply.

_‘It has been damn peaceful without you lumbering around and picking fights, so I am not in any rush to ruin that!’_ he scrawled, even grumbling the words out loud as he did, hoping his irritation would translate.

Nevermind that this was the first time in weeks he’d been able to blow off steam like this. Nevermind that part of him liked it…

_‘And for the last fucking time! You were the one who shoved me into---’_

Mid-sentence, the paper tore itself out of his hand, pencil scratching a long wobbly line, and the next thing he knew, Zoro’s chair had lifted off the ground entirely and started bashing into his, enough that it knocked him in the back of the knee and drew a complete scowl onto Sanji’s face.

“Oh, that is _it,_ you stupid invisible marimo!” he screeched, and picked up his own chair, holding the seat and ramming it legs-first into Zoro’s.

As soon as Sanji’s chair lifted, Zoro actually grinned, the expression on his face a little crazed, but dammit, this is what he’d wanted. This is the kind of stupid shit he’d been growing so antsy for over the past few weeks, and now he _finally_ had the cook here and engaged.

He couldn’t physically hit Sanji’s body at all, but he could still feel his strength behind the chair, and that was good enough for now.

Zoro hoisted his chair higher, and soon, the two were in an all-out jousting match, legs of chairs clacking together loudly, and though neither could hear the other's cursing, the room was certainly full of that too.

Chairs were fucking cumbersome though, and they weren’t exactly landing any polished hits.

_Fuck,_ if only he could use his _swords,_ Zoro thought, but---there was the next best thing, wasn’t there.

Zoro dropped his chair unexpectedly and bolted across the room, shoving barstools and kicking the fridge door as he went because he wanted Sanji to know _exactly_ where he was headed.

And as soon as Sanji noticed that flurry of movement zooming _straight_ for his precious knife collection, he balked.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Zoro!” he shrieked, abandoning his own chair and racing after him until he found himself face to face with one of his favorites, an extra long carving knife that he _knew_ was sharper than sharp.

It hovered there in front of him, waiting in challenge, and Sanji had to fucking curse himself for falling prey to the part of him that desperately wanted to fight. He couldn’t just let the idiot win after all this.

But what the hell was he supposed to fight with? Zoro’s knife couldn’t slice him so long as Zoro held it, right? But if he used one himself, he was in very real danger of injuring a hand….

Zoro stood there, adrenaline and eagerness practically coursing through his body as he waited, _waited_ for Sanji to fucking fight back.

But nothing happened for a long moment. And slowly but surely, Zoro began to feel entirely foolish, and entirely alone, standing there panting with a kitchen knife aimed at nothing.

And yet, just as the disappointment began to overwhelm him, a drawer under the counter suddenly wrenched itself open, a roll of strong duct tape flying out. It whisked itself over to the wall where a shorter, wider knife dislodged itself.

The noise of the counter creaking slightly under a heavy weight, and Zoro watched, in confusion at first, as the tape began unraveling, stuck itself tightly to the knife blade, and started wrapping around thin air in a round shape.

The swordsman couldn’t make sense of it for a second….

Until the knife and the strange tape circle flopped all the way to the ground, and Zoro realized.

Sanji had secured the flat edge of the knife to the bottom of his shoe, essentially creating a mini piece of armor, a _place to make contact._

Zoro’s grin was broad and dopey the second that knife lunged for him in a wide arc that he _definitely_ recognized as one of the blond’s kicks, and he easily blocked it with his blade. It was no katana, but it would fucking do the job.

It was a good thing Sanji couldn’t see Zoro, because surely if he knew they were both grinning like idiots, that would’ve given him pause right then and there. But instead, all he could do was let the thrill of a low stakes, no holds barred sparring match excite him in a way he hadn’t felt for weeks now.

Unlike Zoro, Sanji hadn’t tried to spar with anyone else, and dammit, he hadn’t realized how much he was itching to fight until this very second.

Of course, fighting in his precious kitchen wouldn’t do, so it was only another minute before the two burst forth onto the deck with the usual fervor, hurling insults that neither could hear but both properly _felt_ somehow when accompanied by the force behind their attacks.

It wasn’t long until they drew the attention of their crewmates, particularly when Sanji managed to send Zoro flying back against the mast, giving it a hard rattle that was practically a signal for Franky and Usopp to come running.

But it was the happiness that came with seeing their crewmates finally interacting again that soon had the boys forming a circle around the two, picking sides and cheering them on like it was some kind of cage fight, Nami and Robin standing near the railing, placing their own sly bets as well.

It was probably inevitable, given Zoro’s lack of swords, however, that it would end with his rather unequipped-for-sparring knife scattered twenty feet across the deck, and the opposing knife hovering in midair for a second before dropping to the ground, almost in confusion.

Cheers erupted from the younger boys, Nami unhappily flipped a coin to Robin, and Brook and Franky started up some weird victory song and dance for no apparent reason.

But it was odd, because, suddenly, Sanji was standing there alone, breathing heavily, in the center of the deck. He hadn’t seen Zoro, but he’d certainly felt his presence. Except now, with his knife lying inanimate, it was as if he’d awakened from some dream, faced with the reality that Zoro was very much still absent.

And the fact that he very much didn’t want him to be…

Fuck.

He stood there, feeling foolish, with Zoro just a few paces opposite him, at the same loss for what to do next.

The swordsman stared ahead for a second, realizing how strange it was to be not only on the losing end, but unable to see the dumb cook’s gloating. Any other time this happened, it would merely result in yet more insults and probably a second rematch round in which he’d make sure to kick the blond’s ass to hell and back to prove his own worth.

But now, there was nothing left to do, unless he ran and picked up his fallen knife, but after such a confused pause, it felt kind of weird to do.

Not to mention it felt weird to realize just how much he’d _missed_ this.

He frowned to himself when the crew began to disperse, and it was only then that he saw the ring of tape around Sanji’s invisible foot begin to unpeel itself, unraveling until the knife was free. The tape wadded itself into a ball, and tossed itself right at Zoro, which Zoro caught with a hand, standing there watching as the knife seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Then, Sanji turned towards the kitchen, picking up Zoro’s knife on the way and examining it for any damage before heading on into the galley once more.

He hoped Zoro had the common sense to follow him.

Zoro did, slowly making his way there as well, catching the door when it swung open on its own. 

Sanji was taking the knives to the sink, which turned on, the first knife plunging itself into the water and receiving a thorough scrubbing.

Zoro watched it happen from the doorway. But then he felt the urge to walk over to the sink, absently throwing away the tape ball as he went.

He stood next to where he assumed Sanji to be, crossing arms over his chest and leaning a hip against the counter, wondering if there was any hope of Sanji noticing he was there.

The washing didn’t falter though, leaving Zoro to deduce the answer to that as a definitive, ‘No.’

So he decided to remedy that, and as soon as the water shut off, he grabbed a dishtowel, placed it in his palm and held it out expectantly in offer to dry the knife.

Sanji’s heart jolted in his chest just a little at the sudden movement beside him, only for an instant.

And yet, he had to pause at the strange sight, that hovering dishtowel---and the outline of Zoro’s palm and fingers beneath the cloth.

Something about that image struck him, because it was the first sign he’d seen that Zoro still existed. The first sign that there was still a real human behind all the floating objects and slamming doors.

Something about it had his breath catch, and it took him a long moment before he finally plopped the knife into that waiting palm.

He saw, actually _saw,_ Zoro’s fingers curl around it beneath the cloth, and Sanji couldn’t move his eyes for a good minute as the fabric slid over the metal surface to dry it off.

Eventually though, Zoro had finished, and was holding out the knife expectantly for Sanji to take and place back on his knife rack where it belonged.

Zoro waited….until he felt the blade lift from his hand, and it traveled back to its home on the other end of the counter.

Soon after, the water started up again, and the second knife cleaned itself off.

Zoro held his hand out once more, and the cook turned off the faucet, then passed it to him for drying.

But while he did, surprisingly, Zoro saw a drawer near the sink open, a second dishtowel lifting out on its own.

The swordsman’s breath caught a little too, just as Sanji’s had, when that cloth took the shape of a hand, the faint outline of fingers that held themselves out in anticipation for the knife.

His own fingers slowed, stopping their drying as he stared, wide-eyed, at the shape, almost as if seeing a ghost.

He’d apparently paused too long though, because Sanji’s hand gestured insistently for him to pass over the blade.

Zoro did so, carefully, almost in fear that this wouldn’t work, but when he pressed the knife flat into that waiting palm, he actually _felt_ a hand beneath that cloth, saw the impression of fingers wrapping themselves around the blade handle.

Sanji pulled his hand away first to put the second knife back as well, and Zoro’s hand lingered there in the air, wondering why a moment as simple as touching Sanji’s stupid puppet hand had felt so powerful.

The swordsman stood there, a little baffled by the moment that had just occurred, not even moving when his own cloth was snatched off his hand, folded, and placed into the drawer with Sanji’s.

And just like that, Sanji was gone again, and he was really starting to hate these fleeting glimpses of the cook. He wanted all of him or nothing, and dammit, who was he kidding? _Nothing_ had clearly not worked out for him in the slightest.

But then, the movement of bar stools, followed by a chair at the table shifting, and suddenly, the pencil was writing on its own again.

Zoro practically tripped over himself to reach the table.

_‘Okay, look,’_ Sanji was scrawling in his slanted, loopy writing. _‘I’m not about to run around with a damn bedsheet draped over me all day. So maybe a cure wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.’_

Sanji paused in the silence, suddenly worrying that he really was alone, so he gave the chair beside him an experimental kick.

It shifted back in reply with an indignant scrape of wood along the floor, and Sanji huffed out a breath, at least satisfied Zoro was reading.

So he picked up the pencil and finished his intended message.

_‘Crow’s nest tomorrow at 10, after breakfast. Be there.’_

He waited, staring at the page, keeping his fingers on the edge of the notebook for some reason…..waiting….

And then the pencil pulled from his hand, the notebook gave a gentle tug under his fingertips, and a reply scratched itself out below his writing.

_‘Okay,’_ it said.

Simple as it was, Sanji couldn’t help but smirk.

* * *


	4. Memories

There hadn’t been many occasions in Zoro’s life where he’d needed to be on time for things. In fact, other than, say, time limits for saving his crewmates’ asses in battle, there hadn’t really been much rush or structure to _anything_ he did in his everyday lumbering life.

So the fact that he had agreed to meet Sanji at ten o’clock, up in the crow’s nest, was actually kind of a big deal.

He didn’t know what the hell the cook had in mind, and he hadn’t received any clues because….well, he’d stayed up until four in the morning, not because he had watch, but because he’d done some training, aimlessly stalked about on his way to try and steal some booze.

Ultimately, at about one, when the moonlight was high above the water, and the ship was eerily pale beneath, he’d freaked out Franky, just leaving the galley for his watch shift, by climbing the rigging and apparently silhouetting himself against the moon like a creepy-ass spider or some shit.

At least, that was the reason Franky gave him for shaking the system of ropes so hard he nearly tumbled into the sea below.

Damn shitty reason, really, and he’d been sure to let Franky know.

“Crow’s nest is that way, bro,” Franky directed once Zoro had two feet on the deck and a scowl on his face, the older man clapping large robotic hands onto his shoulders and steering him in the right direction.

Zoro grumbled his disapproval under his breath over the fact that he now had _hand imprints_ in his skin. He still wasn’t completely used to all of Franky’s new modifications.

A frown of concern tugged Franky’s lips down, strangely, in response to Zoro’s grumpiness.

“You okay, man?” the cyborg asked before Zoro could stalk off too far. “Last few times I’ve had night watch, I’ve caught you up. Not sleepin’ well?”

Zoro tried not to visibly twitch, tried not to show that his friend had hit the proverbial nail on the head just as well as he could hit a real one.

He merely shrugged and turned his good eye towards the man so he could see him.

“I take naps,” was all he said by way of reassurance, and it was obvious that Franky wasn’t necessarily comforted by this.

“Sure, but nothin’ like a good night’s sleep, y’know?” Franky replied, pausing after he said it, his brows drawing in slightly as if he wanted to say something else.

Zoro waited, the ship creaking quietly in the conversation lull.

Finally, Franky sighed and seemed to work up the conviction to ask, “Any of this about Cook-bro? The whole invisible thing?”

For some reason, Zoro had a feeling that was going to be Franky’s question. And he wasn’t sure if it was because he had the thought himself _first,_ or if it was because of earlier that day….how Chopper had said everyone was worried about the two of them…

He couldn’t really deny, after all, that he had started to lose sleep over this….that maybe he’d had a dream or two where he properly beat up the cook…

“S’nothin’ to do with that,” he lied, genuinely not wanting his crewmates to worry themselves over the matter, even if he knew it was just wishful thinking.

“I’ll go try an’ sleep now,” he added a few seconds later, turning away so he couldn’t see the skeptical and disappointed look that had come over the cyborg’s face.

Franky rubbed at his jagged chin as Zoro started towards the upper deck, the swordsman’s shoulders tense in a way that spelled out both his frustration and his embarrassment.

Franky shook his head slightly, watching his younger crewmate for another moment before he said, “Y’know, bro, the offer still stands. If you wanna see each other, could figure out some armor for you if ya want. Doesn’t have to be full-body stuff---want you guys to be able to move alright when yer fightin’, but….might be worth a shot?”

Instantly, the same feeling came flooding back---the feeling Zoro had when Sanji had taped that knife to his shoe and given them a way to fight.

His friends had offered to help before, but now that he’d actually made contact with Sanji, he was beginning to realize just how much he _wanted_ their help.

Too bad it would be embarrassing as fuck to admit that.

“Maybe,” was all Zoro replied with, a nonchalant shrug, but when Franky’s grin glowed white in the moonlight, he got the idea he’d still managed to give too much away about how he’d been feeling.

Dammit.

“Alright, man. I’ll drop some stuff off in the crow’s nest for ya, how’s that?” Franky said. “For now, you go get some sleep~”

Zoro had nodded, stalked his way off with the intention of taking Franky’s advice, but eventually ended up passing out in said crow’s nest after a few hundred rounds of one-armed push-ups, not wanting to wake anyone else up with the loud clanging of his weights.

And this was why, come morning, he awoke after a few hours’ rest on the hard floor, a large sack beside him like some bag full of gifts left for a child, nearly submerged in his puddle of drool that crept ever closer in the night.

Zoro sat up after trying to deduce just what the hell was in front of him for a good few moments, eventually scrubbing a hand at the back of his head and yawning loudly once he determined it wasn’t threatening.

Damn. Franky had gone all-out, he saw when he finally took a peek inside, noticing it was piled high with all kinds of shit, helmets, shoulder plates, almost like he’d just raided some knight’s closet.

Surely the cook would think all this shit was excessive. He’d said maybe it wouldn’t be _so_ bad to try and find a solution to all this, but he’d probably think Zoro was insane.

Thus, Zoro spent the entirety of breakfast trying to figure out an excuse he could make that the cook would buy, deciding, in the end, that blaming the whole thing on Franky was a good enough plan.

Curly already knew that the crew was worried about them, so Franky’s attempts at helping were certainly believable. And he _had_ offered in the first place.

Yeah. That was good.

Still didn’t mean he wanted to stick around in the kitchen and watch the invisible blond do the dishes, so he stole away to the crow’s nest to bide the time until Sanji was coming to meet him.

It really was a weird feeling though, this planned meeting thing, and the closer it crept to ten o’clock, the more he began to wonder if he should just kick all the armor aside and pretend it didn’t exist.

It was stupid. Sanji would think he was stupid. And normally he wouldn’t care what Sanji thought of him because he could just beat the shit out of him and show him who was boss. But he couldn’t fucking do that now, could he. So this was a damn dilemma and---

He couldn’t dwell on it for long, thankfully, because the ladder gave a creak of warning.

And then, up through the hatch came a floating bag that bobbed its way up and into the room before stopping.

It hesitated just beside the hatch, long enough that Zoro muttered automatically, “M’right here, cook.”

No response, something he remembered would be the case a second too late, long enough to feel a twinge of disappointment which he quickly brushed off as annoyance.

A scowl came to his face, but he reached out to crack the window next to where he sat instead, to indicate his presence to the blond.

This seemed to be enough, because the bag Sanji carried dropped to the floor and opened itself, a thick notebook pulling itself out, along with a marker, both placing themselves down and sliding across the metal floor towards Zoro.

As soon as he did that, Sanji took out another notebook and hastily wrote, _‘It’s from Nami-san,’_ at the top of the first page, holding it up for Zoro to see.

When he saw the offered notebook lift itself, Sanji couldn’t help a resigned sigh.

He hadn’t expected himself to think so much about this damn meeting since he’d first proposed it the evening before.

He hadn’t expected himself to go to Usopp and the girls, ask them if they had anything that might solve their problem, at least temporarily.

Nami-san had kindly given him the pair of notebooks they now had, and the bag he’d lugged up here held donations from Robin-chan, Usopp, and Brook as well.

Would any of it be of any use to them? That remained to be seen, but he sure hoped it was. The stupid marimo would probably snark up a storm at the lengths he’d gone to for a solution to their predicament. If he wasn’t already…

Sanji felt a spike of stupid nerves when Zoro’s notebook flipped itself to the first page and his marker moved into position over it just before the swordsman began writing.

A few seconds later, it turned around to reveal a boldly scrawled, _‘What’s in the bag?’_

The cook resisted the weird urge to swing a leg around and kick the floating notebook like he would a board, instead grabbing his own notebook, drawing a line beneath his first message and replying, _‘Stuff that might be useful. Mostly Robin-chan’s ideas.’_ Even though Usopp and Brook had also contributed.

Nevermind that he’d asked them for help first. And nevermind the genuine smile that had come to his face when Robin-chan had offered to do some research in the library for anything that might be of use. Zoro wasn’t allowed to know that.

Sanji knelt down on the floor beside the bag as Zoro opted for caveman communication, writing a big question mark on his notebook page, foregoing an actual sentence. The idiot.

He dove a hand inside and first pulled out two pairs of gloves. Their effectiveness was, admittedly, questionable, considering clothes seemed to disappear as soon as they were actually worn.

Zoro saw those gloves lift out of the bag, and he walked over with his notebook to plop himself down next to the bag too, automatically reaching out to take one of the floating pairs out of the air. They were for him, right?

But as soon as he gave a slight tug, Sanji snatched them back, flapped them angrily and pulled them away, so Zoro backed off, crossing arms over his chest and sulking.

Soon though, he noticed one of the gloves disappear entirely, his eyes narrowing automatically in response.

Sanji had pulled the first glove onto his hand, flexing fingers into the thin cotton. Robin-chan had bought them for handling old paper, and they weren’t very bulky at all.

This was why he took a second glove and pulled the white fabric over the first. He then tossed the other two gloves towards Zoro’s notebook that now hovered a foot off the ground, presumably in the marimo’s lap.

Zoro caught them in a hand, bunching up the fabric and staring at it for a second.

Sanji’s gloves had disappeared into thin air. Did that mean he was supposed to put these on? Because it hadn’t done shit for making the cook visible. So why would he even bother?

Apparently, Zoro’s hesitation was too much for the blond because, not long after, the cook’s notebook had lifted again, and he quickly wrote, _‘Layer both of them on one hand and then touch mine.’_

As soon as he’d done that, Sanji lifted his double-gloved hand and held it out expectantly towards Zoro, pretty convinced that it must be able to work. After all, the second glove, despite being an article of clothing, wasn’t actually touching him anywhere, so it should have worked the same as the washcloths the evening before.

But when Zoro didn’t move to put the gloves on, instead writing, _‘I can’t even see your hand, idiot,’_ Sanji felt a surge of disappointment crash through him of its own accord.

“Are you kidding me?” he growled out loud before taking off the gloves and nearly tossing them roughly back into the bag in his frustration….before he remembered they came from Robin and carefully folding them instead.

Fuck, they were really out of options then, at least as far as seeing where each other was, weren’t they. Aside from holding objects, would anything even work---?

Suddenly though, Zoro’s notebook plopped to the floor, and a minute later, Sanji saw a large sack that he hadn’t noticed before drag towards them from its place beside the bench.

The sack was big and bulky, and Sanji frowned when Zoro lifted it with ease, the sound of clanging metal ringing out when he dropped it to the ground closeby.

Zoro had decided he wasn’t going to make any excuses. If the cook thought he was weird or too eager to fix this, so be it. _He_ wasn’t the one who’d come up here and tried to force a million pairs of gloves onto their hands.

The swordsman loosened the drawstring on the sack and rummaged inside to find that array of metal.

He didn’t even know where to start, so he pulled out a pair of shoulder plates on a whim, examining the straps that connected them for a minute before tentatively slipping them over his head and settling them onto his shoulders.

He was just pulling one of the buckles a little tighter across his chest when he felt a hard _shove_ to his shoulder, and his eyes widened.

Immediately after, another shove and then, Sanji’s marker lifted quickly to scribble out an almost _excited_ message of, _‘Holy shit, it works! Gimme something!’_

Zoro let out a breath, still getting over his initial shock that something _had,_ when the sack started dragging away from him on its own. He snatched it back with a growl though because this was _his_ plan, _his_ idea, and it didn’t matter if he’d spent hours ready to deny that fact and blame the whole thing on Franky. If it worked, he was taking _credit,_ dammit.

So _Zoro_ dove into the sack again, this time finding a legitimate knight’s helmet, complete with faceguard and everything, a devious grin on his face at how ridiculous Sanji would no doubt look as a floating head. Particularly punchable, that was for sure.

He held it out for the blond to take…

But Sanji didn’t take it. In fact, he just stared at it for a long minute, the grin that had worked its way onto his face when he’d managed to make contact with Zoro fading at the sight of that helmet.

His mouth went a little dry, a strange clenching in his chest the likes of which he only felt when he woke up after a particularly vivid nightmare. After remembering the click of a lock, small hands gripping metal bars pleadingly, the suffocating, claustrophobic feeling of another helmet trapping his head, muffling his screams and cries, doing nothing to protect him from the dank, miserable cold of that dungeon for all those months….

Zoro shoved the helmet closer, and Sanji’s heartbeat immediately rammed harder against his ribs, the cook instinctively jutting out a foot to kick the thing away, sending it bouncing off the opposite wall with a heavy thud and finally rolling to a stop beside some of Zoro’s weights.

Still, Sanji’s eyes lingered on it, those evil memories chilling him to the core, breaths coming more forcefully than normal.

Maybe it would have worked. Maybe Zoro could have seen him again, and there was different armor to try, but when he found a trembling hand automatically lifting to his face, almost as if to shield it, he knew he couldn’t do it.

He needed fresh air.

The crow’s nest was light and airy, the morning sunshine still coming in through the windows to bathe the room in warmth, but he couldn’t sit here. He needed to be free from walls, if only until he calmed down.

Zoro was furiously writing something in his notebook, but Sanji didn’t care, just scrambled to his feet, running a hand back through his hair and hurrying to the hatch, even leaving behind his own notebook and the bag he’d brought up.

The swordsman had turned around to flash his message across the room, an angrily scrawled, _‘The hell was that for?!’_

But that was when he heard the creak of the ladder, the telltale sign of someone descending, and his mouth dropped open. Was the cook seriously ditching him suddenly?

He threw his marker towards the hatch to provoke him, but it passed right overhead without interception, skittering to the floor on the other side of the room.

“What the hell!” he gritted out to himself, almost feeling _foolish_ now because here he sat wearing fucking massive _armor,_ all so the cook could see where he was, and for what?

Zoro scrambled over to the hatch, peering down the opening as if he’d even be able to tell where the idiot was on his descent.

But all he saw was the long, staggering distance to the deck below, not even a shadow of the blond cast onto the billowing sails.

The only evidence he received that the cook was even down there was the scurrying of Usopp, with Chopper on his shoulder, as they approached the bottom of the ladder.

“Hey, Sanji! Any luck with the---?” Usopp started to say, a grin on his face that quickly dissipated as he turned his head, seeming to follow something moving swiftly away from him. “Orrrr not….”

Usopp dropped his raised hand forlornly to his side, and Zoro heard Chopper mumble a concerned, “Is he okay…?” before both of them glanced up the crow’s nest ladder.

Zoro sighed, pulling his head in and rolling over onto his back on the floor with frustration.

What the fuck had been Sanji’s problem?

He huffed out a breath, staring at the domed ceiling before his head turned to look at the cook’s discarded notebook and the bag not far away, the only evidence that he’d been here at all.

The bag was mostly collapsed, but Zoro could still see the faint outline of something solid within, so he sat up and scooched closer to peer inside.

Surprisingly, beneath the gloves Sanji had thrown back inside, there were also two tone dials, probably from Brook and Usopp.

Zoro’s eyes widened and he pulled them both out, wondering, with some excitement, if Sanji had left a message for him. In that moment, he thought he’d take anything, even a fucking recorded _insult._

But when he pressed the swirling apex of each shell-like dial, he was disappointed to hear nothing. Empty. No recording.

So he decided to give it a go himself, holding down the apex for longer this time until he felt a whirring click inside. Then he spoke into the open end of the shell, unloading weeks of insults all in one shot.

“Can you hear this, dumb ero swirly question curly son of a bitch bastard asshole---uhhh----idiot stupid---prissy prancing eyebrow cook?----Oh yeah, and shitty--- _dumbass moron!_ \----Who always loses against me!”

A satisfied nod and he finally clicked the button again to stop the recording.

The cook would have a damn hard time ignoring _that._

* * *

Sanji was doing a good job of ignoring most everything, however, as he stalked away from Usopp’s questions and moved to an isolated corner of the deck where he hunched over the railing and clasped fingers at the back of his neck. He took a few slow breaths, feeling the soothing rock of the ship as they sailed and watching the turquoise waters lapping at the hull, reminding himself where he was.

The smell of the salt and the warmth of the breeze reminded him so much of _home_ that it really should have been difficult to fall back into those horrible memories, which he really hadn’t yet come to terms with, if he was honest with himself.

But he didn’t want to. That time was past, and he was here, safe, with his _new_ family.

Everything was fine.

Zoro hadn’t known. Zoro hadn’t meant to pull out such a triggering object, but Sanji still felt a little annoyed as he pulled out a cigarette and lit up to help stave off the lingering anxiety.

The shoulder plates had worked, probably because they weren’t made of cloth---or….? Well, the cook had no idea why, but it had been a step in the right direction at least. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go walking around with those heavy things on, but if one of them, namely Zoro, wore them, then he could have a better idea of whatever the hell the marimo was up to.

It didn’t solve other things. They still couldn’t touch each other, couldn’t hear each other, and dammit, he’d forgotten about the tone dials.

A grumble to himself as he debated going back, now that he’d calmed down, but how the hell could he explain everything he’d been feeling to the _marimo_ of all people, and in writing, no less.

The cook sighed, blowing out a stream of smoke before he pushed off the railing with a determined slap of hands against the white-painted wood.

He straightened his tie and headed off, down the stairs to the lower deck level.

Time to lose himself in the tangerine pie he’d promised Nami.

* * *

Nobody bothered him, and Sanji figured it was because he’d probably scared Usopp and Chopper off with his cold shoulder act.

He felt bad now, elbow deep in flour, feeling the pleasant ache in his forearms from kneading the thick dough for the pie crust. But his emotions were heightened, and he honestly felt like he was more prone to snapping these days.

He only hoped he wouldn’t do it at the wrong time...or at the wrong person.

Dough slapped down onto the floury counter, finally ready to meet the rolling pin, which made quick work of flattening it into a large circle.

A tiny sliver he cut off, just to taste it, before he gave a few more passes over it with the rolling pin, then moved it to one of the waiting dishes on the counter nearby, carefully arranging the dough inside the glass and trimming off the excess with a pair of kitchen shears.

He’d just sprinkled down some more flour and started on preparing the second pie crust when the door opened on its own, and in flew that ridiculous shoulder plate armor and a pair of tone dials.

Zoro lumbered into the galley, gaze already trained on the kitchen area where, indeed, he saw evidence of the cook working, so he headed right on over, uncaring if the idiot was mad at him for whatever the hell reason.

He didn’t bother asking why Sanji had stormed off earlier, just stopped on the other side of the counter, sat himself down on the long, red cushioned bar, and started slamming the dial down on the counter repeatedly to get Sanji’s attention, as if he wasn’t standing a few feet away.

After all, he was confident it would work. Why wouldn’t it? _He_ wasn’t the one speaking. His voice was merely recorded in the tone dial, so this had to work around the problem. And if _this_ worked, then maybe Den-Den Mushis would as well, and then they could finally yell at each other to their hearts’ content, in real time.

It was with this thought in mind that he smirked when the device snatched itself from his hand, watching as the blond lifted it with some hesitance.

He saw the button depress, heard his voice spout the ridiculous insult train he’d recorded earlier, and he couldn’t help but grin, prepared to catch the device when the cook undoubtedly threw it at him and another fight ensued. If they had to use knives again, so be it. Though those scissors looked pretty damn useful too…

But the recording hadn’t even finished before the tone dial lowered to the counter again and the dough laid out there pulled itself up, a puff of more flour dusting the surface until he saw writing begin to appear in the white dust.

 _‘Nothing,’_ Sanji spelled out upside-down with a finger, wondering if the marimo hadn’t been trying to get _him_ to record a message instead.

Maybe….and when he got no immediate response, he went to pick up the dial again….

But then, unexpectedly, a slamming noise and a cloud of flour flurrying up in response.

Zoro dragged fists from the counter and jammed his elbows there a second later, pulling fingers through his hair in absolute frustration.

 _“Fuck_ this,” he hissed. Would _nothing_ work?

He didn’t have time to wallow long before he felt a slight, surprisingly gentle pressure on his left shoulder plate and he looked up to see the flour writing erasing itself before another message began to appear.

 _‘You recorded something?’_ Sanji asked simply, and Zoro angrily jammed a finger to the very edge of the flour to bitterly write, _‘Yes.’_

Sanji sighed, having a feeling that was what that little outburst had been about.

He reached across and picked up the pink tone dial still sitting on the counter, presumably blank. 

Then he held it up to his mouth, held down the apex and said, “So I take it you can’t hear this either…”

When he finished, he held it out, feeling Zoro take it and hearing him replay the message.

Not a second in though, and a crack suddenly appeared in the dial shell, and it better not have been from Zoro’s fist.

“Stop, stop,” he said out loud automatically, his voice weary, and he reached out to push the dial down to the counter before the resistance loosened and he could slide it aside entirely.

A huff of breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

What next? Because of all the ideas, this was one he’d assumed would definitely work for sure, and by the looks of it, Zoro’s frustration over this situation was more than he’d previously thought.

He saw the flour in front of him begin to swirl, blurring the words written there as Zoro trailed a finger through absently.

Sanji didn’t have the heart to stop him, even when he saw a ball of discarded dough lift and disappear somewhere around eye level, most likely into Zoro’s mouth.

There was nothing to do or say now, Zoro could tell when the rolling pin picked up again, and the blond began preparing the second pie once more.

He sat there watching, dull expression fixed on Sanji’s work, which had never been particularly fascinating to him. It still wasn’t, but he didn’t leave, just sat there with an odd air of sulky defeat that wasn’t very becoming of the future world’s greatest swordsman.

But the future world’s greatest swordsman could never have foreseen that something like this would undo him as much as it had.

This was how Brook found the two when he stepped into the galley, humming a tune. He stopped short upon noticing, with some surprise, that both Zoro _and_ Sanji were in the kitchen, Zoro now with his arms folded on the counter, chin resting on his forearms, a pout on his lips, and Sanji across from him, spreading the tangerine pie filling he’d made earlier into the pie crusts.

“Oh, Zoro-san! Sanji-san! I’m happy to see you both in one place---ah! Even though I---”

 _“---Don’t have eyes…”_ both Zoro and Sanji muttered to themselves, unaware they’d spoken simultaneously, neither even looking up.

Brook paused, mouth still agape, and though he may have protested the stealing of his joke any other time, it was the melancholy air in the room, the dejected way Sanji placed down the dough for the pie topping and the heavy sigh that escaped Zoro, that stopped him.

If the skeleton could frown, he would have, stepping over to his friends. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure what he’d been sent to fetch them for would lighten the mood much.

“Sanji-san,” he said quietly, voice adopting a comforting tone to address the much younger man. “Once you’ve reached a stopping point, perhaps you and Zoro-san would be interested in hearing some things Robin-san and I have unearthed in the library? Relating to your situation.”

This finally got the two’s attention, Zoro finally straightening in his seat and Sanji slowing his work to glance over at Brook.

“What kind of things?” the cook asked slowly.

“Well,” Brook replied. “I remembered reading an encyclopedia many years ago. This was before much was known about Devil Fruits, mind, and I wondered if it wouldn’t have some information about this mysterious potion. Robin-san had a copy, so we went searching, and we believe we’ve found an entry that closely mirrors your predicament.”

Both Sanji and Zoro’s first instinct was to glance the other’s way, and though they couldn’t see each other, it sure appeared that they shared a look, something that gave Brook a bit of hope for his crewmates.

“Tell Curly to finish quick,” Zoro said, just as Sanji mumbled, “Alright, I’ll finish up,” and started his work a little faster.

Zoro noticed this, and for a hopeful second, he wondered if Sanji had heard him, watching the pies making themselves with increased speed.

But no, that was impossible…

He got to his feet, leaving the tone dials on the counter and strode off towards the door without further word.

“I’ll go to the library,” he muttered, and then he was gone, leaving Sanji and Brook alone.

“Where’d he run off to?” Sanji asked quietly, noticing Brook’s head turn to watch the marimo’s exit.

Brook didn’t answer for a moment, and in fact, when he looked back over at the cook, there was, somehow, regretfulness that managed to emote, even over mere bone.

But he tried to bring some pep to his voice, replying simply, “Oh, he’ll meet us there, that’s all~ You know, all this reminds me though. Have you ever heard the song about the invisible pirate who pillaged the seas with his invisible crew~?”

And he soon began humming anew to pass the time until Sanji got the pies in the oven.

It was nice.

But both of them knew it was merely for distraction….

* * *

Some ten minutes later, Zoro had yet to arrive at the library, wondering when the hell Franky changed Sunny’s floor plan as he’d ended up below deck in the docking room, turning in a puzzled circle, surrounded by the six numbered doors of Sunny’s docking system.

Where the hell was the library? None of these numbers gave any clue and neither did the ladder leading up and out.

A sigh.

Then, with nothing else to do, he walked up to the door labeled ‘1’ and gave a knock.

“Oi,” he tried.

No response, and he almost moved to door number two when, suddenly, a pair of blue eyes and a thin pair of lips bloomed on the surface of the door in a flurry of small pink petals.

He jumped back with an undignified squawk, startled, before narrowing eyes at Robin’s, just as a wry smirk came over her lips.

Then, the eyes and lips began to morph into a full face, Robin’s entire body sprouting out of the wood until she stood perfectly normally in front of the swordsman.

“The library is this way, Zoro,” said the body double with a smile. “Please follow me.”

“I know where it is,” Zoro mumbled, trying to quell a blush when Robin’s form began moving towards the ladder.

“Of course,” she chuckled. “Would you like to hold hands~?”

_“No!”_

* * *

Just outside the door to the library, Robin’s double disappeared in another shower of petals, leaving Zoro with a scowl on his face when he opened the door to find the real Robin and Brook seated inside, the table before them scattered with several large books, though Robin was poring over one in particular.

This room was always so calm and quiet compared to the rest of the ship, comfortable cushioned benches nestled between bookshelves, with views of the deck from all sides. It was dimly, but warmly lit and the smell of old books was distinct and comforting.

It was no wonder it was Robin’s favorite room.

Naturally, that also meant it was the most _boring_ room on the ship for certain rubber captains.

And yet, surprisingly, Luffy was also there, arms looped around some invisible mass, from Zoro’s perspective, as he whined about wanting a snack.

Sanji had dragged him along to avoid any mishaps in the kitchen while he was gone, but the library was not Luffy’s favorite place to be, and so the idiot was slumped there rather pathetically, hanging like his namesake from the blond’s shoulders.

Zoro stepped in though, Sanji’s gaze able to follow the floating shoulder plates that came over and hovered at the table with them.

“So nice of you to join us~” Robin teased, the marimo probably spouting some snarky disrespectful nonsense in return because her lips turned up and she chuckled, though she didn’t reply.

Instead, she carefully turned a page in the book in front of her, the old paper giving a satisfying crinkle. Her fingers delicately smoothed it down before she pointed at the top of the page, titled, ‘Potion of Invisibility,’ in an antiquated font.

“Seem familiar?” she said to the two of them, and indeed, there was even an old illustration of two presumably invisible pirates, their bodies nearly transparent as they purposely scowled off in opposite directions.

Sanji leaned forward across the table, Luffy automatically coming with him, his cheek smooshing against Sanji’s shoulder as he looked on with some degree of interest, most likely due to the picture.

“This encyclopedia article details a potion with effects nearly identical to the one you stumbled across,” Robin explained. “Though the symptoms did not interest me as much as the long-term effects and possible reversal of the situation.”

“So...anything?” Sanji asked, not quite liking how serious her expression was becoming.

“This potion, as the bottle indicated,” she continued. “Is apparently intended for enemies. Something that admittedly confused me, considering you two are anything but.”

She quickly held up a hand to effectively silence a habitual protest from both Zoro and Sanji, Luffy too piping up with a resolute, “Zoro and Sanji are nakama!”

“Of course they are, Luffy,” she eventually continued. “My only theory is that the potion’s magic was able to take effect because it was activated during a moment of tension or hostility.”

She turned to Zoro and Sanji then before asking, "Were the two of you arguing, perhaps, at the time of its inception?”

“He said he wanted to fight me, right there in the store---”

“He shoved me into the display shelf---”

“As I assumed,” Robin replied, again holding up her hand to halt any further unnecessary explanation from the men. “In any case, how it occurred is no longer of importance. What concerns me is the lack of known cures---this book indicates none---and the lasting effects it may have…”

“What lasting effects?” Zoro cut in, and it was the dangerous tone to his voice that had everyone but Sanji raising their heads to look at him.

It was clear from his voice that he was almost _daring_ Robin to say something adverse.

Her sigh wasn’t comforting, nor was the way she quietly tapped a finger over the words near the end of the entry.

“This book could have incorrect information,” she justified. “There is always a possibility with such a dated publication. However, this article states that the longer this potion stays in effect, the more you will forget about Sanji, and likewise, he will forget you. Ultimately, it will be as if the two of you never existed to each other.”

Zoro felt a strong pang run through his chest instantly, hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him _hard._

The anger and strange feeling of panic that ran through him was unexpected, but he couldn’t even feel the surprise over that fact beneath his barely restrained ire.

“I won’t remember the cook?” he bit out, breaths coming heavier. “He won’t remember _me?”_

“According to the book,” Robin said, though she maintained a degree of skepticism in her voice for her friends’ sake. “But it’s like I said. The chances of that happening may not be one-hundred percent. And I can assure you I will continue to search for solutions.”

“As will I!” Brook agreed. “Anything to help!”

Zoro didn’t reply, just stood there, glaring down at the book, his chest rising and falling visibly, Robin’s gaze landing on him somewhat curiously.

The idiot cook couldn’t forget him! No way---fuck that! He’d never be able to argue with him ever again! Never spar with him---never have his support in battle!

And he couldn’t forget Sanji!

Even if the others told him about the strange invisible cook that lived on the ship, he’d never know him, never see him.

He wouldn’t _know_ that there was someone else on the ship who was nearly his equal in strength. He wouldn’t _know_ that there was a dorky idiot who could always make Usopp and Chopper smile when they were upset, or a bastard that could handle protecting the crew when he or Luffy weren’t around.

He wouldn’t know that there was someone else willing to sacrifice everything he had, just to ensure Luffy became the Pirate King…

Instantly, the image of the cook flashed through his mind, stupid suit torn, battered and beaten, amongst the rubble of Thriller Bark, his form trembling, barely able to stand.

And yet, he’d stuck his hands in his pockets, determination unwavering, and blocked Kuma’s path to him, offered _his head_ in place of the swordsman’s….

Zoro had felt something then, something he’d never thought himself capable of when it came to the cook. It was powerful, and it was terrifying, and it was _why_ he’d knocked him out. It was _why_ he’d saved him, because he couldn’t bear to let him do it. He couldn’t bear to sit there and watch as Sanji offered his life and his dreams to the waiting arms of death.

It was why the sheer relief of seeing Sanji alive, practically wading through the swordsman’s own blood after the fact, had been enough to let him finally fall unconscious, why he hadn’t been afraid to succumb to the darkness, even though he didn’t know if he’d wake up from it.

Because the crew was safe. The crew was definitely safe. His captain’s dream was safe. If Sanji was still there.

And it was, perhaps, part of why, when he looked up at the sound of Luffy’s voice, he saw Sanji standing there beside him, perfectly visible.

Zoro’s breath caught in his chest, eyes widening, because he _saw him._ He was standing there, plain as day, with Luffy hanging onto him and his curly brow furrowed, gaze fixed on the table before him, teeth unconsciously grinding for a cigarette.

He was there in an ugly orange dress shirt that clashed with his hair, and he was wearing that weird decorative metal chain thing from his belt that Zoro had gotten his foot caught on once while they were sparring.

It was _so_ dumb, but Zoro couldn’t move for a long moment, just stared in disbelief, his heart picking up speed in his chest.

And then he did the first thing that came to mind.

 _“Cook!”_ he growled, and lunged out with a hand, practically diving across the table to grab a fistful of the guy’s shirt and throw him across the room or something in his elation---

But his hand went through thin air as, just as soon as he’d appeared, the cook blinked out of existence once more, causing the swordsman to indeed fall shoulder-first onto the table, Franky’s armor protecting him from pain, Robin just managing to pull the book back in time to avoid the collision.

Zoro pushed up to an elbow, panting and staring hard at the spot where the cook had been.

Why? _Why?_ He’d just _seen_ him so why did he disappear again?! It couldn’t have been his imagination when the image was so real.

“Whatcha doin’, Zoro?” Luffy asked casually, just before Zoro burst out, “I just _saw him!”_

The three who could hear him immediately responded with shock, Sanji looking entirely confused in turn at the change in his friends’ expressions.

“What?” the blond stuttered. “What’s going---?”

“I saw him---he was right there! In that stupid orange shirt!” Zoro unknowingly interrupted, jamming a finger towards where the cook had been before straightening and stomping around the corner of the table to examine the spot from all angles.

Nothing--- _nothing_ \---just Luffy clinging to empty space again.

Robin and Brook exchanged a glance before the archaeologist asked, “Zoro, you saw all of him? For how long?”

“He _saw_ me?!” Sanji yelped, already perturbed with the swordsman’s armor circling him as it was.

“I saw him!” Zoro repeated for the third time. “For a few seconds---he was standing there, just like normal, but then he disappeared again!”

“See, we can fix it!” Luffy yelped, excited over the matter, even though Zoro was frustrated as hell. “You’re not gonna forget each other, and we’re gonna fix this even if we have to find the best potions wizard in the whole world!”

An eager little bounce on the balls of his feet as the captain looked between his friends.

“Oi. Zoro, Sanji. Tell each other you’re the best nakama ever! Captain’s order! Maybe that’ll work!”

“Like hell it will!” Sanji screeched in reply, though Zoro still looked entirely too preoccupied with the matter at hand to respond to such a request, for once.

Sanji huffed out a breath, feeling too overwhelmed with everything that had been dumped on him in the span of a few minutes, enough that he closed eyes for a moment, then shook his head and turned back to the older two.

“Robin-chan,” he said, trying to assume his normal light-hearted demeanor. “I’m sure you’re right, as always. That book’s probably just some fairy tale or something, so...if you find anything else, let me know, okay~?”

A forced smile and he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his head, another attempt to look casual.

“I should go check on the pies---” he started to add, only to be interrupted by Luffy’s cry of, “Yahoooo!” in response, the hungry idiot already bounding for the door.

“Hey! Don’t just---!” Sanji called after him, but Luffy was already gone, chanting about the food all the way.

Sanji sighed, then gave a helpless shrug and turned back to Robin briefly.

“If you’ll excuse me, Robin-chan. Thank you for the help,” he murmured, giving a half-hearted smile and stuffing hands in his pockets before following after his captain.

The exchange wasn’t right, and both Brook and Robin felt that, unsure what to make of the cook’s resigned reaction to the whole thing.

It was Brook who stood first, touching a skeletal hand briefly to Robin’s, who got the message immediately as he too said, “If you’ll also excuse me,” then heading after Sanji.

This was something they couldn’t let him walk away from so easily.

Even if Luffy’s faith and confidence in there being a solution was present, neither of them had sensed that from Sanji, and Robin managed a grateful smile as the skeleton took it upon himself to tend to the man.

This left the archaeologist alone with Zoro, whose stony scowl still bore into the book that had given answers he hadn’t wanted to hear.

Robin’s gaze shifted to the younger man, watching how he nearly shook with the tension coiling within him.

It was clear to her that he didn’t want this. His reaction, the spark in his eye that had flashed when he caught that glimpse of the blond….It was obvious he wanted to see Sanji, and it was this thought and what Luffy had said that formed another in her mind.

“Zoro,” she said gently, and the way his shoulders hunched slightly told her he hadn’t expected to hear her voice.

She had his attention though because, despite not meeting her eye, he still angled his head in her direction.

So she asked, “What were you thinking about before you saw him?”

He resisted the urge to flinch.

He couldn’t say anything, was why. Two years had passed since the events on Thriller Bark, and of course he trusted Robin. But even still, these were things he didn’t want to address. It would be too complicated to explain, and surely it wouldn’t feel _justified_ or important enough now, despite those emotions still remaining so vividly in his mind.

They were all back together, their strength far superior now, and something fleeting he’d felt at a point so close to death shouldn’t come into play now when there was so much life to live.

“Nothin’, just….pissed...” he muttered unhelpfully, and turned on his heel too. “M’gonna go….clean up the weight room….Thanks for the….info or whatever….”

He nearly winced immediately after telling that little white lie, one Robin would assuredly catch, the weight room hardly ever getting a good cleaning, but he continued walking anyway.

There was nothing else to contribute. Robin didn’t even know what had conspired on that day…that day he and Sanji had been ready to leave everything behind.

But, unbeknownst to him, she did know about that day. And while she may not have pinpointed Zoro’s thoughts exactly, another thing was becoming clear to her as the swordsman walked away.

“I’d say there’s definitely hope for the two of you, Zoro,” she mused, noticing how he paused at the open door. “You’ve just proven that.”

She smiled slightly, seeing his ears turn red just before he slipped through the door, closing it behind him.

* * *

Sanji should have hurried after Luffy to stop him from diving into the oven or some shit, but he hadn’t rushed, his mind entirely distracted.

Despite what he’d said to Robin, the possible effects of the potion were what was preoccupying him.

They could forget each other. He could forget every negative thing he’d ever thought about the man, rid himself of that annoyance....and he could also forget that _guilt_ he often harbored over treating Zoro that way.

Because yes, he knew. They were nakama. Of course he knew that. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe that, despite how he acted towards the idiot.

Zoro had _seen him,_ somehow, though he had no clue how. It had happened so quickly. There was no telling if the swordsman had simply hallucinated it. He was certainly crazy enough.

But the fact still remained, they were also useless to each other right now. Communicating was difficult. Aside from Zoro’s moment, they were invisible to each other. And forgetting this shitty pain he was feeling over this might not be so bad...

Fuck...if anyone knew he was thinking this…

“Sanji-san, are you alright?”

Brook’s voice behind him, and the blond realized he’d stopped, bypassing the galley door entirely to reach the railing on the starboard side, staring out at the sea blankly.

What could he say? Part of him wanted to talk, but the other part was fearful for what his friend would think of the defeatist thoughts running through his mind…

He mustered up his courage and muttered, “Maybe it’s better this way, Brook….. There’s no cure…”

Better to forget, to let these slowly-building emotions wash away entirely, so he wouldn’t have to confront them.

There was a long pause after his words, but then Brook came up beside him, leaning elbows on the railing to be closer to the cook’s level.

“Sanji-san,” he said quietly, hollow eyes fixed on the blond. “You can’t truly believe that…”

Couldn’t he?

Sanji’s thoughts drifted back to that morning, when one look at that iron helmet had triggered fear and anxiety in him, dug up dark thoughts his current self almost couldn’t believe had ever plagued his mind at one point…

“Sometimes memories of painful things aren’t worth it,” he replied. “There’s a lot I wish I could forget…”

“But this is _Zoro-san….”_ Brook countered immediately, and he watched his friend in a somewhat new light.

Yes, two years had passed, and they’d all matured in more ways than one, but it was a moment like this that opened Brook’s non-existent eyes to _just_ how young and inexperienced Sanji was.

He didn’t often feel the age gap between himself and his crewmates, but when something that was so clear to him was still so cloudy to Sanji, he had to say something, didn’t he.

The musician’s gaze turned back out to sea, remembering a very different scene, of fog and darkness, of voices and music that were far too distant to be within reach anymore.

“For fifty years,” he murmured. “The memory of my crewmates kept me alive, Sanji-san. The good. And the bad. All of it….”

He looked at Sanji again.

“I wouldn’t be here, surely, if it weren’t for that.”

The cook sighed, knowing Brook was right.

He….didn’t want to forget Zoro. For all the times the idiot was a damn irritant, forgetting him would be unforgivable.

He just….wanted to avoid a feeling that had been creeping up within him, that had surfaced most prevalently the day before, when their fight had ended and he’d been left feeling terribly alone. It was the feeling of...

“You’re right,” he conceded, cutting off his own thoughts. After all, he never wanted to devalue all that Brook had been through before they’d met.

Brook was strong. And his past fueled his dreams.

Sanji supposed his own history was the same…

“Yohohoho~” Brook laughed quietly, and reached out to give the blond’s shoulder a squeeze. “If it’s any consolation, Sanji-san, once the two of you are back to normal, you will finally have someone to vent your frustrations with again~ I’m sure you’ll feel much better~”

“The hell is that supposed to mean, shitty skeleton?” Sanji shot back, though he couldn’t quite help the smirk that came to his face as he shoved off Brook’s shoulder good-naturedly, amidst the older man’s chuckles, and finally moved towards the galley.

As he crossed the deck, he noticed movement up above, and he craned his neck to see those shoulder plates ascending the ladder to the crow’s nest before disappearing from view through the hatch.

‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ was the phrase, but that wasn’t the truth that Sanji wanted to avoid.

It was the very real _fear_ that it might come true, in the end.

He _didn’t_ want to lose Zoro. He _couldn’t._

And that admission was almost as terrifying as the actual possibility...

_TBC..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! My apologies, but this story is currently on hiatus while I focus on some other projects. I still hope to come back to it though at some point. Thank you for your patience!!!


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